When Shadows Fall
by CutePoison
Summary: Ch 27 is up! Michael is a gigolo with a shattered past. Will meeting Sara help mend his heart?
1. Chapter 1

His head was thrown back as the shower's spray washed over him, cleansing in its heat, washing away the dried sweat, and saliva, the cascading water becoming a welcomed replacement for the remnants of remembered fingers, caresses, the memory of the woman he had just left sated in her expensive home, in her rumpled bed, only to return to his own humble, empty residence...Alone.

He sighed as the water ran its rivulets of long fingers along his shoulders, down his spine to the curve of his ass, tracing its way down his thighs to the wet tiles where it pooled at his feet.

The water could wash his body clean…always, but it never penetrated his mind. His closed eyelids locked away the shadows of pain that were forever reflected in his eyes, if you only knew where to look for them. The loss of her, the loss of his hopes and his dreams; dreams that had shattered like the fragile glass of the windshield she had plummeted through. The wet street that night had echoed his cries as she lay in his arms, her body tossed to the shiny pavement, bleeding, fighting for breath, fighting for the life they were promised together.

Fighting… They had been fighting that night. Fighting about something stupid, something to do with the wedding of all things, and he had looked away from the road for just a moment, with only her terrified eyes, her frantic screams to alert him to the car that was suddenly there before them. He had fought with the wheel then, trying to turn it, to turn them away from the shining head lights of the oncoming car, but…Angela…His angel.

He forced his eyes open, the rain drenched streets becoming wet tiles…Again. Taking a deep breath he pushed down the cheap fixture to end the heated caress of the shower and slid the shower curtain aside to step from the stall.

He made his way dripping to the towel rack and grabbed a towel to run along his long frame soaking up the moisture clinging to the light hairs along his navel. When he was fairly dry he positioned the towel at his waist and moved to the foggy mirror. He could see nothing of his reflection, the image in the mirror a haze of mist.

He reached and swiped a hand along the cool, wet surface. His face and his toned upper body jumped out at him and he leaned into the reflection, his hand holding him as he stood over the sink. His eyes delved into the deep blue pools that held his secrets and then onto the hand poised against the mirror, his left hand.

By all rights there should be a wedding ring between the two whitened knuckles of his ring finger. By all rights he should have just made love to the woman he was to spend the rest of his life with. By all rights he shouldn't be heading out to bed another woman in exchange for the five hundred dollars he was promised. By all rights he shouldn't feel like his life was over at age thirty…like it had ended three years ago…The night Angela was taken from him.

His eyes misted and the tears were blinked aside as he shoved back from the mirror. He had a 'date' to get ready for and he couldn't keep a client waiting. Not if he wanted to keep his job.

He hurried through to his small bedroom and pulled open his closet door. His eyes moved over the expensive garments pressed and hanging neatly on the hangers from the dry cleaners. His wardrobe was his only indulgence and it was a job related indulgence. If he was going to be a gigolo he might as well look the part.

He selected a light blue shirt and dark trousers. He was to meet the woman at her place in…he glanced at his watch…shit he only had thirty minutes before he was supposed to be there.

He dressed quickly and went back into the bathroom to brush his teeth. His eyes met the serious orbs reflected before him and he slid on his poker face, closing himself off. He would give the client what she had ordered and be back home in an hour tops. He rinsed his mouth quickly and placed the cup aside.

He gave his reflection one last look before flipping off the light. And then he headed out the door, confident he had just enough time to make it across town. 


	2. Chapter 2

Sara let the curtain fall back into place and continued her nervous pacing. How had she gotten herself into this? Had she really sunk so low as to hire an escort? An escort that was five minutes late when every minute that passed was a minute less to convince a perfect stranger to go along with her ruse?

She never should have told her parents about Michael in the first place, that had been her first mistake. But her biggest mistake was when things got serious and he asked her to marry him. She had run straight to the phone to tell her mother and Katie. Of course at the time she hadn't known Michael was cheating on her. She hadn't known he was a two faced lying bastard.

That was six months ago and she still hadn't told her parents the engagement was off. In all fairness she had tried, but then her mother had started in on how well Katie was doing. And while Sara was happy for her older sister to have found someone, her wedding was in June, only a month away, she couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy every time her mother would ask her about her life only to compare it to Katie's accomplishments.

It had always been like that as far back as Sara could remember, and you would think she would be used to it by now, but it still hurt. It hurt knowing anything she did could never compare with her big sister the star lawyer of her firm in California. That was one of the reason's Sara had moved to Chicago, well that and she had attended University in the windy city.

The fact that she owned a successful, albeit small book store now and was self sufficient was not enough for her mother. No, it had taken Michael, a top engineer at a successful structural engineering firm as a fiancé to score points with her mother. And then it had all fallen apart.

Sara knew now, hell she had known three days ago when her mother called to say they would be in town for a few days, that the best thing to do would be to just fess up, admit that Michael was out of the picture. But the words hadn't come then and she knew she would go through with this tonight; she would take a complete stranger to dinner with her parents and pass him off as the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with.

She would do it and then come June she would tell them the truth, well not the complete truth, just that Michael was out of her life for good. This silent vow made she sighed and made her way back to the window. She pulled the curtain aside and the glow of headlights illuminated her anxious face.

"Finally!"

She let the curtain fall back into place and hurried to the door. She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands down over her dress hoping for calm that she hadn't felt since learning her parents were in town and dying to meet her wonderful fiancé.

She took another deep breath as the doorbell sounded and then letting it out she pulled open the door. She blinked in surprise at the man standing in the doorway, he was beautiful, and his eyes were like a traffic accident, demanding, captivating her attention when she knew what she should do was look away.

"Um, Michael, right?"

She had specifically requested someone named Michael figuring it would make things easier if he was answering to his own name. Thank God her fiancé hadn't a name like Herbert! Not too many men named Herbert in the male escort business of this she was fairly certain.

At his smile she pulled the door open and asked him in. Now that he was here all she had to do was convince him to go along with all of this.

XXXXX

She closed the door and locked it behind her, followed by a slight pause with her hands against the door as she tried to gather the nerve she needed to do this. She was finding this more difficult with each passing second, asking this gorgeous stranger, well gorgeous hired stranger to pretend to be her fiancé for the evening.

She took a deep breath, preparing to turn around but before she could move she felt his fingers close over her arm. She let him turn her body more out of a shock to her system at his touch then anything. It was only when both of his hands were flat on the door beside her body that she balked. He was too close.

"Um, um, ah, what are you doing?" She managed as she slid around him, his hands grazing her in passing. It was only when she had gained a safe distance that she stopped her backward movement.

Her eyes having never left him were huge as she awaited his answer. She was beginning to think this was a bad idea after all. Her parents were due to show up in half an hour and that was plenty of time for him to rape and murder her and not necessarily in that order.

"Is this a game or something," a slight smile hit his lips at the word game and then he stepped closer attempting to close the gap between them.

She moved away from him her words coming haltingly in her discomfort, "Um, a game, um no, it's um, I um, Michael, um my parents will be here in like twenty five minutes, tops."

His eyebrows shot up and the smile fell from his lips. "Your parents…As in your Mom and your Dad?" After a beat, "I'm sorry I don't do that kind of thing, the kinky family stuff. We may have a guy for that, maybe you should call Kelvin and he can hook things up."

He was moving towards the door when she raced to him grabbing his arm. "No! Wait! I don't understand. I mean I think I do, but I don't think there's anything kinky about my parents joining us for dinner."

"What?" He was clearly as confused as she was. "Dinner as in?"

"As in dinner. What did you think I wanted?" She blinked, "Oh! Oh, God! You thought I wanted? I mean you do that…not that I'm interested!" She was tripping over her tongue and he was beginning to look amused.

"Let me get this straight, you hired me to escort you to dinner…with your parents, and that's it?"

"Uh huh, I mean no," she was nodding profusely and made herself stop. "I um, invited them, I mean they invited themselves…Let's start this over, okay?"

He was looking at her now, his eyes still somewhat amused and she guessed that was better then the alternative, him being pissed and walking out. "Yeah, maybe you should start at the beginning Sara."

She nodded again, "Okay, Michael, um, come on in and have a seat."

He moved through the room and plopped his long frame down into her only chair.

She moved to the sofa across from him and no longer fearing for her life, but maybe a little for her sanity she took a seat. She cleared her throat and then as ready as she thought she would ever be she began to speak.

XXXXX

"So I need you to pretty much just go along with whatever I say. We don't have much time left…I mean before they arrive." At his silence, "I'll pay you the five hundred dollars up front." She looked to him pleadingly, her mind on the watch that was slowly ticking away on her wrist, each second moving her always punctual parents closer to her front door.

He had listened quietly as she told him everything. And now still trapped in silence he was studying her, his eyes no longer amused but deadly serious. "No, I'm sorry, Sara, I can't do that. I can't pretend to be your fiancé." After a beat, "I'm gonna go now. I'll let myself out."

She sat completely still watching him as he made his way to the door. She was somewhat in shock by his answer. She had spent so much time working everything out in her head, what he needed to know to pull the whole thing off, the tiny details; she hadn't let herself consider he might say no.

She was still as he had left her when he pulled the door open to be greeted by her smiling parents.

"You must be Michael." Her father's booming voice could be heard clearly from where she still sat perched on the sofa.

She met Michael's eyes as he glanced back at her, one last pleading look traveling the distance of the room. And then he was turning around, his hand coming out to clasp her father's. "And you must be Sara's father."

Her breath left her in a whoosh of relief and then she was climbing to her feet to join her 'fiancé' in greeting her parents.

XXXXX

He dried his hands quickly and lifting his head his eyes connected with those in the mirror. He looked tired, but only half as tired as he felt. This night was certainly more then he had bargained for, worth far more then the five hundred dollars he had been promised, but she had no idea his hourly rate.

He had a feeling Sara had stumbled onto the 'escort service' blindly, her reaction to his suggestion that she was implying a family gang bang had pretty much proven that; she was clueless. He had never been put in a real situation like this with Angela; meeting her parents hadn't been an option. Her parents had passed before he met her. Ironically a car accident had taken their lives leaving her with a desperate need to start a family, one he had embraced fully. In fact they had planned to start a family shortly after the wedding.

His mood darkened by his thoughts, he tossed the paper towel into the waste basket and pushed through the door, the night outside the windows lining the restaurant calling to him, it's escape promising a welcoming embrace. Yeah, if only.

He glanced at his watch as he made his way to the table. But as Frank Tancredi had said just before Michael had excused himself to use the restroom, the night was still young.

He pasted a smile; that of a doting fiancé on his lips as he pulled out his chair. He was happy to see that the waiter had brought their entrees while he was away.

He was just picking up his fork when Frank spoke up, his voice amiable, "So Michael, Sara tells us you're a Structural Engineer? I'm afraid I don't know much about the field; it's all Greek to me."

Michael raised his eyes from his plate. "Yeah me too," his blaringly honest statement was taken as a joke as laughter filled the air around him.

"You didn't tell us Michael had such a wonderful sense of humor, Sara!" Jill Tancredi said, delight in her tone.

Sara smiled and then just under her breath, "I didn't know that he did."

XXXXX

"So tell me, are the two of you still set on a small ceremony, Sara? I mean you know what I think of the idea. Your sister would never even consider anything less then…"

"I'm not Katie, Mom," Sara said cutting her off with a sharp edge to her voice.

She took a deep breath and then let it out, the weight of Michael's stare heavy on her face as she looked down at her chicken marsala.

"Sara and I think there are more intimate ways of saying I love you then a large wedding. We think that the sentiment is more important then the guest list."

She looked up in surprise at his words. He was so obviously defending her and for a second she could actually believe there was a small intimate wedding in the works.

"Well I think a small ceremony sounds fine, especially considering the expense Katie's wedding has accrued." Frank piped up.

Sara had a feeling her father was trying to help, but for some reason it only made her feel worse, like she wasn't worth the expense of a large wedding, unlike Katie.

God she hated this! This was why she couldn't live near her parents. Though she loved them dearly she didn't like the feeling of inadequacy she always felt in their presence. It seemed in their eyes she could never do anything right, or that she wasn't as worthy as their darling Katie.

There was a short silence and then her mother was off again, this time about the roses Katie had selected for her wedding.

Sara sat back and breathed a sigh of relief. She would much rather listen to her mother ramble on about her sister's gallant affair then to argue about a wedding that would never be.

(Later)

After dinner they had headed back to Sara's apartment, coffee being crucial to hear her mother tell it. And now a cup of the brew later, this was it; the evening was finally nearing an end. All that was left was the short walk to the door. Of course then she would have to listen to what her mother thought of Michael, and she wasn't sure after his small ceremony comment, but other then that she thought he had made a good impression. Not that it really mattered at this point. Come June she would show up in California alone, and the jig would be up.

"I should be going. I have to be at work early tomorrow." Michael's excuse with a quick glance at his watch sent everyone standing. It was getting late.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tancredi," his smile genuine, his hand shake firm Michael said goodnight.

"It's nice to have met you Michael. You will of course be joining us in California this June…For Katie's wedding?"

Michael seemed at a loss for words for the first time that evening, and then, "Of course, I wouldn't miss it."

"Come on, I'll walk you to the door," Sara said quickly, reaching for his hand. She found it warm in her grip as his fingers closed over hers.

She led him away from her parents and the clutter of coffee cups on the table in front of the sofa, stopping only when they had safely reached the door. Her coppery eyes sought out his. "Thank you." This was said quietly for his ears only.

He smiled then and she felt her stomach flip. She was suddenly a little nervous. Until this moment she hadn't thought about this, saying goodnight.

"Their watching us, you know?"

She nodded at his soft words, a small shiver moving through her at the sound of his voice spent in a whisper.

And then he was leaning down, his lips grazing hers with a soft, gentle kiss that left her speechless.

He pulled away. "Walk me to my car?"

She nodded and then they were through the door. The short distance to his car gave her the time she needed to catch her breath. "Thank you for doing this. I know this wasn't your usual date, um, I mean, ah, assignment?"

"No it wasn't." His smile was easy, but she knew he was glad to be leaving, he was just as happy as she was to have this night coming to an end.

"Oh, ah, I almost forgot." She reached into her small handbag and pulled out the envelope with his payment for services rendered.

She glanced back at the buliding as if afraid her parents could somehow see the exchange, and then convinced they were truly alone she slipped the money into his hand.

They stood in silence for a moment and then she backed away a little.

"Well, um, goodbye, then," she said raising her hand in a little wave.

"Goodbye, Sara."

He climbed inside his car and shut the door, the interior light bathing his face for a moment before winking out.

She turned around as the engine roared to life and walked the short distance to her apartment door, where she stood watching for a moment as the taillights faded away.

Once alone, and suddenly feeling so very much alone, she pushed open the door and headed back inside. 


	3. Chapter 3

(Sara)

"Sara? Earth to Sara, come in Sara!"

Sara blinked and took in her best friend's amused expression. Amy was smiling at her, her eyes twinkling with unspent laughter. Sara knew her friend found her 'date' the previous evening to be extremely amusing. She had neglected to tell her about the kiss for this very reason; the kiss that kept drawing her back in. The question was why? It hadn't been that spectacular, the kiss. A light brushing of his lips against hers, a light exhalation against her face as he pulled away. No big deal, right? So why was she standing behind the counter lost in LaLa land when she should be off restocking the shelves with Stephen King's latest?

She shook herself and met her friend's eyes. "What…did you say something?"

Amy gave into her laughter at this show of complete distraction. "Why don't you just set up another date with the hottie? You know this time maybe have him demonstrate some of his work related skillz?"

Deciding not to even justify that one with an answer, Sara shoved passed her intending to unload the box of books awaiting her attention. She was used to Amy's gutter mouth, usually finding her overly horny friend's comments amusing, but for some reason she really didn't want to discuss Michael…Hot Gigolo Michael as Amy had dubbed him, just so as not to confuse him with Jerk face Michael the engineer.

The whole purchased evening was something Sara was hoping to forget. Her parents would be leaving tomorrow and after that it was just a matter of finding the right time to tell them about the real Michael, well to tell them they had broken up. They need never know that there were two Michaels.

She hefted the box and carried it towards the Horror/Suspense section. As Amy followed her she found herself wishing she had kept her mouth shut about the whole thing. But she was used to telling Amy everything and this was no exception, other then that one little detail…the kiss. And there she was thinking about it...Again.

She pushed it out of her head and dropped the box at her feet. A quick slice with the box cutter later and the shiny tomes were under her fingertips, the scent of fresh print filling her senses, reminding her why she had wanted this in the first place. Co-owning Constant reader, the small bookstore with Amy had to be the best decision Sara had ever made in her life. Not only was she doing what she loved, but she got to do it with her bff. Said bff was now standing behind her waiting for her to say something, anything.

Sara let out a breath and turned to her. "I'm not seeing him again. It was nothing."

The look in Amy's eyes changed and Sara wanted to kick herself. "What was nothing? Did something happen? Did he kiss you…Did you kiss him? No, that's not you. You would never do that..." At Sara's flushed face, "Oh, my God, he did kiss you didn't he? Fess up!"

"Shhh, Amy! "Sara looked around her, her embarrassment growing by the second.

Grabbing her friend's arm she dragged her into the erotica section, figuring this kind of talk would be more suitable in this section then any other in the small store. Relieved to find it empty, she turned to Amy.

"He kissed me, but it was no big deal. It was all for show."

Amy was grinning. "If it was no big deal then how come I'm just now hearing about it?"

Sara looked on her friend in exasperation. "Why, because," She lowered her voice to a whisper, "Because I knew you would do this. I knew you would make it into more then it was. He was just doing his…Job!"

"If he was just doing his job you would've gotten some."

"Amy!"

"Sara!" Amy met her eyes, her expression a perfect match for Sara's own.

"This conversation is over, Amy. He's a gigolo…End of discussion."

Giving up on the books, hoping they would somehow find their way onto the shelves on their own, Sara headed for the front of the store. She would be so glad when this day was finally over!

(Michael)

The doors fell heavy at his back shutting out the sunshine, encasing him in the building's controlled environment. The cooling system set at a comfortable 72 degrees was anything but as he made his way along the hallway of the extended care facility he had chosen to meet her every need. He swiped at the sweat on his forehead, the unseasonably warm weather he had left behind apparent in his flushed features. The roses he held, light pink, a dozen of her favorites, would bring a smile if she were aware of their presence, aware of his presence…If she were aware of anything.

He made his way, his feet on auto-pilot; he had traveled these halls countless times over the last three years. He moved along, a slight pause in his step as he approached her door. He came here twice a week and each time he would do this, this slight pause filled with hope spent in a few beats of his wasted heart.

He opened his eyes, and wishing for a miracle he knew would never come, he pushed open the door. His held breath left him as a smile fell over his face, not because he felt like smiling, but just on the off chance it would illicit some response…this time.

Stepping into the room, he held the roses at arms length hoping for a spark of life in her vacant eyes, but her slack features didn't change; her blank stare never wavered. She was just as he expected her to be...His Angela.

He set the flowers aside and made his way to her. Reaching to take her hand in his, he leaned to kiss her gently on the forehead, her skin silky smooth, warm beneath his lips. It never ceased to amaze him, the beauty of her. She was still as beautiful as the day he had met her, over four years ago…

She was a student back then and he was the screw up who never took anything seriously. That is until he met Angela. She had changed all of that. He had fallen for her quickly without expecting a fall, each moment spent with her a moment he would now cherish forever.

He smiled at the memories; the nights spent in each others arms, the mornings beginning with her smile. Back then he couldn't wait for the new day to begin. His eyes glossed over with tears and he swallowed them down as the memories washed over him.

They had dated for a little over a year before he asked her to marry him, her exuberant yes filling him with a joy only imagined. The plans for the wedding were to be meager ones, the money from her parent's life insurance policy already promised to tuition…If she were to be a doctor. And it was her lifelong dream…

Money; if only he had had enough back then maybe this wouldn't have happened to them. This thought came bitter as it always did bringing with it memories of that night.

The night of the accident had started out like any other, an evening out at a local restaurant ending with them driving home through the rain soaked night. Their voices had grown heated, a simple conversation turning the once pleasant night on end. She had wanted to extend the guest list, only five more people, she said. She would cut back on the roses, whatever it took.

He should have just agreed. Why hadn't he agreed? The roads were so slick...his attention on her as the argument escalated. His eyes now moved to the roses on the table, the very shade chosen for their nuptials. He swallowed hard and stroked his thumb along her palm.

Pushing away the memories he forced himself to speak. "Hey, Ang, it's me, Michael…I'm here just like I promised." Her features blurred and he blinked her face back into focus.

He would usually talk to her, sometimes read, but they had finished the book in the nightstand on his last visit and he had yet to replace it.

He pulled up a chair and sat down beside her, his hand falling easily over hers as he spoke. "I talked to Lincoln the other day. Remember I told you that he met someone? He thinks it's getting serious…She's smart and pretty of course. I say it's about time." After a beat, "I really like her. I think you would too."

He stroked her palm as he spoke, his voice filling the silent room, the room he could afford due to his steady income.

He never thought about what he did for a living while he was with Angela, he couldn't it would be too much of a betrayal. But he knew he couldn't afford to quit. He was all she had. And he owed her this. He owed her this and so much more…He couldn't let her down again.


	4. Chapter 4

(Two weeks later)

Sara pushed the mute button to deaden the volume on the television and picked up the phone. It was time. Katie's wedding was only two weeks away and besides she figured she had put this off long enough. She had to tell her mother she would be attending the wedding alone.

Taking a deep breath she punched in the number to her parent's home phone in California. The ringing filled her ear and after five rings she was expecting the answering machine to pick up. The relief that flooded through her was short lived however when her sister answered instead. "Hello?"

"Kate, is that you?" Sara managed to not hang up, but just barely.

"Sara? Hey! We were just talking about you last night!"

Sara held her breath for a beat before responding. "Oh, yeah, what did I do to become the topic of conversation?" She wasn't sure she wanted to know, really, but it was too late.

"Well, Mom was talking about Michael and how great he is. Sara, there is still a Michael isn't there? I mean you haven't chased another one away have you?" Her sister's teasing voice held an undertone that was unmistakable.

Same old Katie flew through Sara's mind as her jaw clenched and her fingers tightened on the small phone. She couldn't remember a time when Katie hadn't turned a simple comment into a jab of some sort.

Managing to keep her cool she relaxed her jaw, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "Of course there's still a Michael. I can't wait for you meet him, Kate." Sara wanted to kick herself for not telling her sister the truth, but she couldn't do it; she knew what Katie's reaction would be, could hear the "I knew it!" before it was even spoken.

Katie laughed. "I can't wait to meet him. Mom says he's quite a looker too. And an engineer! How did you manage that one?"

"Just lucky I guess. Hey listen Kate, I have to go. Um, could you tell mom I'll give her a call later?"

"Yeah, sure no problem, I'll pass the message along…Oh and Sara?

Sara closed her eyes. "Yes?"

"I'm really excited about Michael. He sounds like just what you needed to pull you out of the slump you'd fallen into after college."

Sara was opening her mouth to speak, but the click ending the call filled her ear.

She flipped the phone closed with a sigh. Katie always did have to have the last word.

(Michael)

He pushed his way through the door of the apartment building and out into the chill spring air. The crispness of the late afternoon breeze felt good against his hot skin as he made his way along the streets leaving the tall building behind. He had just left his first client of the day satisfied and content in her bed, but his day was far from over.

He glanced at his watch as his long legs moved him forward. He had a little over an hour to kill before his next visit to yet another lonely house wife…Or as Kelvin liked to call them DHW's.

Spotting a Starbucks he made his way at the cross walk. He ducked in quickly and within minutes was sipping his frappachino, the chocolate mint filling his mouth, instantly erasing the taste of Sofia from his lips. She had been a client for over a year now and kept calling him back. He tried not to think of the significance in this, but he knew she was more then a little taken with him. Her long glances and deep kisses were a dead giveaway.

Not all of his clients kissed him, but some did and he had no problem with it, he would just seperate himself emotionally from the task. The way he saw it, it was just another part of his job.

He took another long sip of his coffee and made his way up the street. He didn't usually stick around this area of town long, he was usually in and out of Sofia's, but his new client lived only a few blocks away. He was scanning the area around him as he headed towards the park. He figured he would pull up a bench and relax a little.

He found himself wishing he had asked Sofia for the use of her shower, but maybe his new client wouldn't mind if he hopped in hers? Feeling slightly grubby he plopped down and took in his surroundings letting his mind go. He was planning to visit Angela later in the evening and on work days he found it difficult to tell her about his day.

His wandering eyes fell on the bookstore across from the small park. He'd never been there before, but suddenly a solution to his dilemma occurred to him. He had yet to bring in a new book to read to Angela.

He hopped up. Sticking the straw between his lips he quickly finished the last few sips of his coffee before tossing the container in the trash receptacle next to the bench. He would browse for a bit and maybe find something interesting to read. And if not he figured it would at least help to kill the time before his next client.

(Sara)

"What are you reading?" Amy held up her hand in a wait a sec gesture. A few beats later she flipped the book closed and held it up for inspection. Sara's eyes moved over the glossy cover taking in the title. "Sexual fetishes of the rich and famous?" Sara smiled and shook her head. She should have known. Amy was always reading the latest from the erotica section.

"What?" Amy grinned. "Sexual fetishes are pretty common I'll have you know. As a matter of fact my cousin Lorne, you've never met her by the way, she has a muffin fetish." Sara held up her hand. "Wait! Stop! I don't think I wanna know, Amy!"

"Oh, come on, Sara!" Amy's laughter was drowned out by the sound of the bell above the door signaling they were no longer alone in the store.

Amy's giggles dried up in an instant and Sara followed her friend's riveted eyes. It was him. She felt Amy's hand thump against her arm as her eyes moved over him.

He was moving through the store unaware of the two sets of eyes drinking him in. The long black coat he was wearing to fight off the current chill in the spring air was hanging unbuttoned around him as he moved, a backdrop showcasing the black shirt, and faded denim that hugged his body like a long lost friend. He looked amazing, even more so then Sara remembered him looking.

"Oh. My. God!" Amy said a little too loudly drawing Sara's attention.

"Shhh!" Sara blinked and pulled her eyes to her friend's grinning face.

"What, he's hot! If I didn't have Dwayne, I'd be all over that!"

Sara leaned in, her voice going even lower as she spoke in confidence. "Amy, it's him."

Amy gave her a clueless look and then her features cleared, the light bulb going off blaringly in her teal green eyes. "Oh, you mean it's him, him!" She was already moving as Sara's hand clamped on her arm.

"Where do you think your going?" She hissed, her voice coming out in a squeaky, low whisper

"Don't worry I just want a closer look at him." Amy made to move but Sara didn't let up, her death grip still holding strong.

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so Amy." She was afraid her overly vocal friend was going to say something to him about the wedding. Amy had spent the better part of the morning and into the afternoon trying to convince Sara to hire Michael for the two week wedding extravaganza. Amy had even offered to loan her some of the money. Sara had refused figuring he would say no anyways. And her argument was a good one. Why would he agree to it now when he had to be forced into it the first time? He had made it pretty clear he wanted nothing to do with it. Besides going to California for two weeks was a lot more involved then a simple dinner date. It would require real acting. And face it a mere gigolo from Chicago was no Wentworth Miller.

She wished now she hadn't mentioned her phone call with Katie at all. But she had been upset and Amy always was a good listener. She couldn't count the times her best friend had lent her a shoulder to cry on. But still if she had kept her mouth shut Amy wouldn't have any reason to push so hard.

Amy was looking at her now an exasperated expression on her face. "So then you go talk to him." A beat later, "If you don't I will."

At Sara's hesitant expression, Amy pulled her arm free and moved from behind the counter.

"Wait!" The word came out a little louder then Sara had meant for it to and she lowered her voice. "I'll go…I'll go talk to him, just…just stay here, promise?"

Amy was grinning again her green eyes alight with mischief. "Sure, no problem, I think I'll go nuke my Lean Cuisine." She still hadn't budged from her spot in front of the counter. "But not until I see the back of your pretty head moving towards that hottie. And definitely not until I get to hear that silky smooth voice."

"Amy!"

"Just kidding, geez, you'd think I was the pushy friend or something."

Sara sighed in relief as Amy made her way into the office to get her lunch. And then taking a deep breath she scanned the shelves. She could barely make out the top of Michael's bent head as he stood by a shelf on the left side of the store.

Letting out her breath in a gust of air, Sara wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and headed towards general fiction.

XXXXX

"Can I help you find something?" He jumped at the sudden nearness of her voice and the initial look on his face, one of intrusion changed to slow recognition.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," she babbled as his eyes raked over her features.

"I know you...Sara, right?" He ignored her attempts at an apology, his blue eyes boring into her.

She nodded. "Yeah, I um. We went to dinner at the um, Radcliff a couple of weeks ago." She suddenly felt stupid. Of course he would remember her...It. How could a guy forget the girl who begged him to pretend to be her fiancé?

"Um, can I help you find a certain book, or an author maybe?" She was back to trying to be helpful.

"No, I mean I think I found what I was looking for, thanks." He held the book 'Airframe' by Michael Crichton loosely in his hand.

Her eyes raked over it out of curiosity. Besides, she had to look somewhere and his face; his eyes were not an option today. She was feeling more then a little embarrassed and uncomfortable about their 'date' and the small kiss they had shared.

"So you work here, then?" His question brought her eyes to his face despite her reluctance.

"Um, no I ah, I'm co-owner with my friend Amy. I don't think I've seen you in here before. I mean not that I remember everyone that comes in, but…I mean you're not a regular," she said feeling a bit flustered.

"First time, actually. Nice place you have here." He glanced around as he said this and her gaze moved to his lips, only to fall away when he brought his eyes back to her face.

"Thanks, we try, but with big stores like Borders around it can be tough. We're lucky there isn't one in the area, or we would probably go under." She was babbling again, giving too much info and she knew this but she was nervous. "Can I check you out then?"

"Excuse, me?"

Her cheeks flared, and she forced her next words out. "You're book, can I ring it up for you?"

His eyes cleared and he laughed, "Yeah, sure you can ring me up." He held out the book and she reached for it hoping she wouldn't do something stupid like drop it on his foot. When it was safely in her hands she brought it to her chest; her intention to head straight for the counter to do just that, ring him up. She was more then anxious to get him out of there.

She turned quickly. In her haste she almost bumped into Amy who was suddenly standing in the isle.

"Amy!" The word burst from her lips in surprise.

"Sara!"

She tried to edge her way around her smiling friend, but Amy wasn't having it.

"So, Sara, who's your friend?"

She shot Amy a look, her coppery eyes warning, but her determined friend ignored her and turned to cast her green eyes upon her prey.

Admitting defeat Sara shot Amy one last scalding look and then pasting a smile on her face she turned around. "Um, Amy this is Michael, Michael, my friend Amy."

Amy moved to stand beside Sara and held out her hand, "Nice to meet you, Michael."

Michael's eyes moved from Amy to Sara and then back again, his hand finally coming out to grip Amy's in an easy handshake. Sara had a feeling he knew that Amy was aware who he was…And what he was.

"I was just going to..." Sara barely caught herself; the words check him out once again teetering on the tip of her tongue. "We were on our way to the counter so I can ring this up." She finished and held up the book for Amy's perusal.

"Oh, Crichton, I love him! Did you read The Wedding? Oh, wait that was Nicholas Sparks, my bad."

If Sara wanted to hit her friend then, she really wanted to let her have it when the next sentence fell from her lips. "Speaking of Weddings, did Sara tell you that her sister Katie is getting married in a couple of weeks…"

Cutting her off mid sentence Sara gripped Amy's arm and pulled her away. "Be right back."

A quick glance behind her and she was hauling Amy up the isle and away from him. "What do you think your doing?" She whispered her voice low but stern when they were far enough away that he couldn't pick up her voice.

"I was helping you broach the subject gracefully."

Sara was incredulous, "Broach the subject? Broach it gracefully? I can't ask him, Amy! I told you to just let it go…Please?"

Amy studied her for a moment, her eyes serious for once. "Fine, I was just trying to help. Don't ask him…I don't care." A beat later she was turning away. She thought she heard Amy mumbling something about her lunch getting cold.

Sara watched her friend walk away telling herself she just wanted to make sure Amy was indeed headed for the office, but who was she kidding, she was stalling. She didn't want to go back to general fiction and she knew it.

Seconds ticked away and still she stood, her procrastination growing heavier in her chest. Figuring she should just get it over with, she took a deep breath and turned, this time barely avoiding a collision with Michael when he stepped out in front of her.

His hands shot out to stop her, coming to rest on her forearms. "Whoa!" His fingers were warm against her skin, each digit leaving heat when he pulled them away.

Pulling herself together she moved away. "Um, we should um, let's get this taken care of," She indicated the book with a nod of her head and walked quickly up the isle to head behind the counter. She glanced at the closed office door and then set to the task of ringing up his purchase.

She grabbed his credit card and slid it through, her eyes locked on the cash register waiting for prompts.

Suddenly aware of his eyes on her face, she glanced up. "Is everything okay?" She was getting lost in his gaze, imagining a concern in his sky blue depths; a concern that wasn't there, she realized soon enough. "Is my card going through? I had some trouble with it the other day."

She blinked and pulled her eyes back to the register. "Um, yes, it's fine." She handed him the card back and their fingers brushed lightly sending her hand away and back to retrieve his receipt.  
She pushed it to him for his signature careful not to graze his skin.

While he signed his authorization her eyes moved to the closed door of the office. Why couldn't she be more like Amy? If she were Amy this would be so much easier. Amy would just ask him to go and that would be that. And despite what she had told her friend over and over, Sara did want him to go. Even more so after seeing him here today.

She was pulled from her thoughts when he pushed the signed receipt her way. She stuck it in the drawer per usual, and shoved his book into a bag, the crinkle of paper loud in the quiet store. She smiled then and slid it across to him, his receipt sitting atop the bag. "Thank you, um, Michael."

"See you around, Sara."

She watched him head out the door, the little bell signaling that she and Amy were once again alone in the store.

(Sara)

"There you go Mrs. P. I know you'll love the new Danielle Steele. Like I said I've heard only good things about it." Sara smiled at the older woman and handed her the bag containing her purchase.

"I'm sure I will, Sara. You've never steered me wrong before. Amy's recommended some good ones too…A bit racy but good." She lowered her voice a little at this and Sara thought she saw color rise up in Mrs. P's cheeks. After a beat, "Where is your lovely partner in crime this afternoon?" Mrs. P was glancing around the store.

"Oh, she's in the office. I ah, I don't think she's feeling all that well today." Sara lied.

"Oh, poor thing, well you tell her I said hello and to take care and get some rest, will you? And you take care of yourself too Sweetie, you don't want to be coming down with something so close to your sister's wedding." She winked.

Sara's smile faltered a little, but she managed to stop it from sliding completely off her face. "No, I sure wouldn't want to do that."

Mrs. P's hand came out to land on Sara's for a quick pat. "I'd better go, but I'll be in next week for the new James Patterson."

Sara smiled. "I'll stick one behind the counter for you, like always, Mrs. P." Mrs. P headed for the door then, her nightly reading in hand. Sara watched until the bell filled her ears, and the door swished shut behind her favorite customer.

Sighing softly her eyes moved to the closed office door. It was obvious that Amy was pissed at her. Over an hour had passed since Michael left the store and she still hadn't emerged from the office. And this time Sara was willing to bet it wasn't because Amy was on the Prison Break forum chatting with her friend Julie. Nope, she was mad. The question was should she try to get Amy to talk to her, or leave her alone?

She sighed again and moved to the door, her fist coming up to knock. "Amy, open the door, please." Quiet seconds ticked away. Sara placed a hand on her hip and fought back her growing annoyance. She had had every right to tell Amy to back off and yet she was the one feeling bad?

She knocked harder. "Amy, you're being really childish, do you know that?" She was about to knock again when the door came open.

"I'm childish? I'm being childish? I was just trying to help! You never take any chances…you never have any fun Sara, and this could be fun…Sure maybe nothing will come of it…and sure maybe a rent-a-ho isn't ideal, but at least you would have a date for your sister's wedding."

"Yeah, well maybe I just don't believe in settling for second best like some people I know?" The words left Sara's mouth before she could bite them back. At her friend's hurt expression, "Amy I didn't mean that."

But Amy was already headed out the door. "I'm going for a walk. I'll be back before closing time."

"Amy!" Sara shouted, but her friend didn't look back. God, could this day get any worse? The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Amy. And now she had done just that with her stupid comment. She closed her eyes as they filled with tears, the day combined with her frustrations spilling out in hot liquid form to race down her cheeks.

Moving around to the side of the counter she slid down to the floor until her back was resting against the cool hard surface. She pushed the hair back from her face and brushed at the hot tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes falling to the floor. It was only then that she saw the shiny plastic rectangle lying beside her.

(Michael)

The five one hundred dollar bills met his hand and his fist closed over them, the sound of the dry paper crinkling in the quiet room. His work day was now complete, well it would be as soon as he stepped out of the apartment building. He glanced up at the pretty blonde in the cheerleader outfit. She had been a little kinky, but nothing he couldn't handle…It was after all, all in a day's work.

He reached for the wallet tucked into the back pocket of his faded jeans and pulled it out. He flipped it open as Ina moved about the bedroom having already dismissed him. She was pulling the sheets from the bed as if her husband was due home any minute, and he very well could be for all Michael knew. Ina was a new client and he knew very little about her except well, he knew some things now. He didn't finish the thought as his eyes fell on the empty slot where he kept his credit card.

He glanced down at the floor hoping it had fallen out when he opened the wallet, but the floor was immaculate. "Damn," he swore under his breath as it occurred to him where his credit card must be. Constant reader was the last and only place he had used the card that day.

"I'll call you again sometime, okay?"

He glanced up and smiled. "You should do that, Ina"

Ina walked towards him then and leaned up to kiss him gently on the lips. "You'd better go."

He nodded, "Sure thing."

He left the large bedroom and made his way through the posh apartment, seeing himself out. He would stop off at Constant reader before he headed across town. Hopefully Sara had found it and put it in a safe place. The idea of canceling his card flew through his head and he sighed at the inconvenience. Well, there was only one way to find out. He hit the streets and turned left his long legs moving him towards Constant reader and hopefully his lost card.

(Sara)

The plastic was cool to the touch and she couldn't help but wonder how it had gone unnoticed before now. There had been several customers in the store in the time since Michael had left. She ran a finger over the upraised lettering, Michael J. Scofield. He must have dropped it.

She pushed the hair from her eyes and tucked it behind an ear. She stared at the plastic in her hand for a moment and then her eyes shifted to the entrance to the store. She pictured him coming through the door to reclaim his card and it suddenly occurred to her what it would look like if someone were to come in at that moment, if they were to see her sitting on the floor with her tearstained face.

She climbed quickly to her feet and grabbed a few tissues from the box on the counter to mop at her face. From past experience she knew she must be quite the sight, her eyes red, her face a splotchy mess. Maybe she should just close up shop for a while, at least until she looked human again.

Decision made she headed towards the door. Once there she leaned heavily against the glass and looked out at the chilly spring day, her thoughts moving to Amy. Amy had left without her jacket and was probably cold in only her short sleeves. She flipped the closed sign over and turned the lock, figuring a half an hour tops and she could open back up till closing time. They had never done this, close up early, not once since they opened shop. It would two years come August. Her eyes once again filled with tears and she knew she had made the right decision. There was no way she could face anyone right now. And if one of their regulars came in there was sure to be questions.

Lock engaged she turned; her intention to head for the office to make an effort to get it together. Her blurred vision was surely to blame when her foot hit the small bin of free flyers and newspapers supplied by local vendors. She grabbed at the small bin but it was too late, before she knew it she was staring down at the mess of papers on the floor.

She took one look at it and burst into tears. She stood there staring and sucking in huge gulps of air as the tears flowed freely, her hands coming up to cup her hot face.

Her life much like the floor in front of her was a mess. Amy was right, she never did anything right. Not that her friend had said that, Amy would never be so cruel, but it was true, she never really took any chances. The bookstore was the biggest chance Sara had ever taken aside from moving to Chicago, and it was only through Amy's persistence that she had agreed to the venture in the first place. Even then it had taken her weeks of indecision to work up the nerve to invest the money inherited from her Grandmother's will.

She pulled her fingers away now and glanced around the small store that was her life. A fresh wave of tears built as she thought about how lonely a thought that was. She had no one really. Her family was far away, by choice, but still. All she really had was the store and her friendship with Amy.

Amy too was away from her family, she had left everyone behind in North Carolina to attend school at Northwestern, just like Sara. But there was one big difference, Amy had Dwayne. And Sara knew her friend was happy in her marriage. What she had said had been a low blow.

Amy was over Jimmy and Sara knew it, but it hadn't been long after the break up that Dwayne had come along and Sara had always suspected it was a rebound thing. She bit her lip now as her harsh words to Amy resurfaced sending the tears racing hotly down her cheeks.

She had just taken her first steps towards the office figuring she would clean up the mess on the floor later, when a knock on the door drew her attention. She was content to ignore it and continue on her way but the knocking continued suddenly louder, more insistent.

Her head whipped around and she found herself staring into the bluest, most intense eyes she could ever recall seeing. 


	5. Chapter 5

(Sara)

She stared for a beat, the image of a deer caught in headlights looking less alarmed then she was feeling at that moment. Why was Michael pounding on the door? She took a deep gulp of air pulling it into her lungs only to push it back out in a shaky breath. His credit card, of course that had to be it, he had come back for the card and was now staring at her like she was a crazy person. She knew her appearance lent to the belief, it had to. She was even more of a mess now then she'd been five minutes ago when she found the card in question.

Mind racing, she shoved the hair away from her sticky face. She was considering a mad dash into the office, quickly weighing the pros and cons of said action. She could explain later, right? Yeah, that would be so much less awkward when he came back the next day, and he would be back, there was no question. That is if he wanted his card back, and of course he did. She took another deep breath to steady herself and walked the few steps to the door.

"Sara, are you okay? His concern surprised her, the pale blue of his eyes intoxicating her into silence. She stared wide eyed at him for a beat and then made herself move, her fingers clumsily unlocking the door.

"Sara, are you okay?"He was all concern as he stepped inside, his words of a moment before falling from his lips in a repeat performance as he survveyed the area, as his gaze came back to land on her face.

When she gave no response, no indication she had even heard him his concern grew. "Did someone hurt you?" His hands moved up her arms to cradle her elbows in a gentle caress as if she might break.

She nodded dumbly, her breath caught in her throat at his closeness. Suddenly she was less embarrassed by the tears staining her cheeks and how they came to be there then by the flush now spreading throughout her body. Avoiding his gaze her eyes cast low through dark shaded lashes to the floor, to the the mess at their feet. She took in the scene this time seen through his eyes and she had to admit it certainly looked like there could have been a struggle, some sort of an altercation.

"I'm…I'm fine, I, I just, I knocked the bin over and…" Her voice faltered, her words left hanging in the air.

"You're upset because of some spilled newspapers?" His voice held a note of incredulity, but was there also a hint of relief?

She nodded, "Um, no, ah, I mean yes, I'm a huge klutz. I spill things all the time. Well not all the time but sometimes." She was wringing her hands and made herself stop. She tried to meet his eyes but fell just short and landed on his nose.

"Sara how are things with your family, is everything going okay?" His quiet question shocked a wave of emotion loose and then it was cresting in her eyes spilling down in a tidal wave.

"I…You…It's…"She hiccoughed painfully, her words incoherent even to herself. She felt his arm go around her and then he was pulling her into him, the black coat growing darker beneath her cheek as the tears soaked into it.

Why was he being so nice to her? Why even ask her about her family, her problems? Why not just ask for his credit card and leave? She felt his hand stroke over her hair and the painful breaths she was pulling in hitched in her throat.

"Its okay, Sara, just let it out. It's okay." His soothing words were close to her ear sending shivers along her spine. She had never felt like this, never in her life had a man's arms around her felt like so much heaven.

She hiccoughed against him and pushed away a little attempting to break the spell, but not succeeding. The words out of her mouth came suddenly, as if of their own accord. "Will you go to California with me, please...To my sister's wedding? It's only for two weeks...And I can pay you three thousand dollars...It's all I have. It's yours if you'll go." She took a hurried breath, the sentence having left her in a long string of breathless words.

Her eyes met his, the copper warm, pleading. He stared into her eyes for a moment and then it was as if a shade were drawn over his eyes, a coolness now emanating where warm blue had once held residence. His arms fell away and he took a step back. "I can't do that. I'm sorry."

She nodded and a hiccough followed painfully, embarrassingly close behind. "I understand, I do, I mean I'm sure you're worth more then I could pay you, I mean I bet you make more…I'm sorry, I am so not good at this." She was once again wringing her hands, but this time unaware of it in her discomfort.

"Yeah, I do. I make more then you could afford, and I'm all booked up." His voice was cold now, his eyes flinty. Had she insulted him despite her apology? "I think I left my credit card here. If it turns up, let me know."

"Wait!"

He was turning on his heels but stopped when her voice rang out in the quiet store. He turned then, his face a mask of neutrality, his eyes still cool. "Yes?"

"I um, I found your card earlier. Here." She reached into her pocket and held it out to him, a slight tremble noticable.

He stared at her hand for a beat, the smooth plastic held within her slim fingers, and then he reached for it.

A quick shove sent it deep into his coat pocket and then he was through the door, into the cool spring air, and out of her life.

(Michael)

Long legs taking him up the street, and away from Constant reader, Michael pushed through the light breeze, its gentle touch cooling his features, wiping away the traces of the artificial heat from the store, from the awkward situation he had just untangled himself from. He certainly hadn't known what he was walking into.

His first thought upon seeing Sara had been to help. One look at her standing in that mess of newspapers and he had been sure she was in some sort of trouble, hurt, something. When she claimed her tears were due to clumsiness he should have just left it at that, asked for his card back and headed out. But something in her eyes had betrayed her, something he wished he could un-see. So he had asked her how things were going, something he usually shied away from, questions of a personal nature.

He had learned it was better not to ask, to keep himself at a distance. But he had asked and when she broke down, her face flooding with tears it had seemed only natural to pull her into his arms, to offer comfort. He should have just kept his distance…Hell in hindsight he should have gone home and inquired about his card via the phone. He certainly didn't need this shit.

He pulled his jacket off now and slung it over his shoulder, suddenly grateful for the cold front that had moved into the Chicago area. He needed to cool off that was for sure. He wasn't even sure why he was pissed. He was used to being paid for services rendered, how was her offer any different?

Still his anger had allowed him to do what he had to do, turn her down. Three grand was less then he made in a bad week. But it wasn't the money really; the real reason was Angela. There was no way he could leave Angela for two weeks. California was a hell of a long way from Chicago. If something were to happen while he was gone…He pushed the thought away refusing to even consider it.

As he walked the light breeze picked up, the spring air seeping through his thin clothes, chilling him, but it felt good, its cool tendrils bathing his heated body washing away his anger. And now that his anger was dissipating he couldn't help but feel sorry for Sara. The look on her face when he told her he couldn't go had said it all, she was desperate.

His step quickened as he drew closer to the parking structure where he had parked his car that morning. What was it about this girl? Why was it that he felt the need to help her? Was it because she was so obviously socially inept? He had never met anyone like her before that was for sure. To all outside appearances she was a beautiful young woman, sweet, successful. She had everything going for her. So why did she have to invent a fictitious fiancé? Why did she care so much what her family thought? She should just tell them the guy, the engineer was an ass so she dumped him. She was an enigma that was for sure.

Michael's footfalls echoed throughout the structure as he entered and made his way to the three year old Toyota Corolla he relied upon to get him around the city and surrounding suburbs. He hit the key fob unlocking the doors and hopped in, his eyes instantly falling to the bag in the passenger's seat. The logo Constant reader blazed out at him reminding him he was due for a visit with Angela that evening. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life.

He cast one final look at the dark blue bag and then putting the car in gear he sped out onto the street his eyes moving involuntarily in the direction of the bookstore. As he sped passed he saw Sara's friend Amy enter and felt a sigh of relief escape him. Why it should matter to him was a mystery he was happy to leave unsolved, but he did hope things worked out okay for Sara.

He made a right at the corner and turned in the direction of home. He had just enough time for a shower and a quick bite to eat before heading to the Care facility.

(Sara)

The small bell above the door sounded and then Michael was gone, never to return, no doubt, and could Sara really blame him? He'd come there to retrieve his credit card and what had he gotten? A mess in his arms, and a slap in the face for his kindness, that's what.

God, of all the dumb things she had done in her life, asking him to go to the wedding with her at that moment had to rank in the top five! And offering him the three thousand dollars in her bank account, her life savings? How could she be so stupid? She had insulted him. He probably made twice that in a week.

She swiped at her tears and then grabbed at the box of tissues, her fingers hooking around it as she slid to the floor to once again take up residence on the floor.

She no longer cared who came into the store, or who might see her looking like a total train wreck. This day couldn't possibly get any worse. No, it would be hard to top the events of the last five minutes…heck the whole day.

She sighed and let her head fall forward, her hair shielding her eyes, her tearstained face. Behind her auburn veil her eyes moved to the spot where Michael's card had spent the better part of the afternoon, her fingers moving to trace the small pattern in the carpet. She couldn't help but think how good his arms had felt around her, how nice it had been to be held if only for a minute...

She hiccoughed again and pulled her hand away, her fingers breaking contact. It was pointless to dwell on this and she knew it, but still... The sound of the bell sent her head jerking back and up into the wooden counter behind her. "Ow!" Her lips dropped this single exclamation as her eyes flew to the door, a familiar blonde head bobbing into view. "Amy!"

She scrambled to her feet, her banged head all but forgotten. She felt new tears brimming as her feet sped the distance to her BFF.

"Sara, God what happened in here?" Amy surveyed the mess, her concerned teal eyes coming to land on her best friend. A beat later she was pulling Sara in for a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Ames, I didn't mean it…I was just pissed because you're right, you were right and I…" Sara hiccoughed and sucked in a breath.

"Sara, its okay, just breathe, Kid. I'm not mad, I mean, I was but I'm over it already."

Sara felt relief flood through her and the tears spilled over onto her cheeks. "Really? You mean it, 'cause I couldn't stand it if you were mad at me too, Amy."

Amy pulled back, her eyes narrowing quizzically. "Too, who else do you think is mad at you?"

Sara's hands went together, her nervous habit of wringing them working overtime. "Michael?"

Amy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No way, Michael was here? When…while I was out?"

Sara nodded, "Uh, huh. I think I pissed him off, Amy." Her voice then fell to just above a whisper, "I asked him and he said no." She met Amy's eyes. "So I guess all that's left to do is to call my folks and tell them I'll be coming to the wedding alone."

Amy pulled her close again. "I'm sorry, Kid. But you know maybe you were right, maybe it is for the best?"

Sara nodded. "Maybe…Yeah, it probably is."

Silently, besides, my family never really expects anything to come of my relationships, who am I to disappoint them now?

She forced a smile and pulled away. "We should probably clean up this mess before someone comes in here."

Amy nodded. "Yeah, we should." She bent and started gathering newspapers. Sara pushed the hair from her eyes and righted the bin.

Within minutes the store was immaculate. "So where are you and Dwayne going for dinner?"

"It's Tuesday, do you have to ask?" Amy's grin was infectious.

"Chick fil-A!" They said in unison and then dissolved in giggles.


	6. Chapter 6

(Michael)

A flash of auburn hair followed by warm coppery eyes filled his senses and a small smile played across his sleeping features. She was in his dream…moving closer…A smile hit her lips and then they were parting to speak. "Michael I…" Her voice changed, suddenly deepening, backed up by a heavy beat as it turned into Limp Bizkit's Rollin', "Move in now move out…Hands up now hands down …Back up back up…Tell me what you're gonna do now!" Breath in now breath out …Hands up now hands down …Back up… back up."

The images flew from his head as he reached for his cell phone to silence the ring tone.  
It was flipped open and at his ear within seconds. "Hello?"

"Mike is that you?" He swiped at the sleep in his eyes and sat up, the voice on the other end of the line wiping out the trace of good feelings, the dream instantly forgotten to be replaced with a gnawing apprehension. Kelvin never called him. It was always Michael's job to keep in touch, to find out the schedule.

"Yeah, it's me." Michael sat up slowly then, digesting the words that were filling his ear. "Listen, Man, I need you to come down to the police station. I need you to bail me out."

Michael was silent for a moment as possible reasons for his employer's arrest filled his head. But really he could think of only one plausible scenario. Please let it be non work related, please God. His eyes were closed tight as he voiced his question. "What's your bail set at…How much money?"

Kelvin's voice flooded his ear, relief present, "Hundred grand. I need 10...ten grand total. I'll pay you back, man, just as soon as I can, I swear. "

"Okay, I'll ah," he swung his legs over the side of the bed as he spoke. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Flipping the phone closed he grabbed the shirt he had discarded the night before and pulled it on over his head. Showering would have to wait. He had a visit to pay to a bail bondsman.

XXXXX

Ten thousand dollars, his entire savings was now in someone else's hands. Michael tried not to think about the bills coming due, but he couldn't help but worry as Kelvin's voice grew louder, his employer's words pitched with fervor into the cell phone he held tightly to his ear. "I don't care where the hell you are, who's fucking Birthday it was, you're supposed to be there when I call! What the hell kind of lawyer are you? What the fuck do I pay you for?"

Michael kept his pace even with Kelvin's, his long legs having no problem keeping up with the shorter man's angry stride. They had just left the police station and were now headed up the street to the parking structure where Michael had parked his car.

As Michael listened to the one sided conversation his concern grew. "What do you mean they'll be watching my accounts now?" A beat later, "Well if you were there when I called I wouldn't owe anyone anything!" His boss's tone grew more heated, his agitation dancing in his light brown eyes.

They were now inside the parking structure standing outside Michael's Toyota Corolla. Kelvin's eyes flitted away avoiding Michael's as he listened quietly to his lawyer. Michael felt a growing dread forming in the pit of his stomach as each second ticked away. Angela's Care facility was expecting payment. How was he going to make that payment when his bank balance was nearing zero? He needed his money back and soon.

Kelvin was speaking again, his rage having died down, his grip on the phone less of a strangle hold. Michael heard him tell his lawyer he would get back to him and then he was flipping the phone closed.

Kelvin's eyes came up apologetically, meeting Michael's concerned stare. "It's gonna be a while before I can pay you back, man, I'm sorry. Lawyer says I can't touch any of my assets without drawing attention. And ten grand would draw a hell of a lotta attention, you know?"

The dread turned to a burning acid as his boss confirmed what Michael had already suspected. He was broke. Kelvin's next words halted Michael's fevered attempt to think of a way to make ends meet, to maybe take on extra clients. "All clients are off limits till this shit blows over, you got that? We can't draw any heat to the clientele. It's bad for business."

Kelvin missed the look on Michael's face as he swung the door open and fell into the passenger seat of the Corolla. All clients were off limits? How the hell was he supposed to manage without any money coming in? He could let most of his bills slide, including his rent, but Angela was counting on him. His rigid body fell behind the wheel and he turned to Kelvin this very question on his lips, but he didn't get a chance to voice it.

"Oh, and it might be a good idea if you left town for a while, maybe take a little vacation. They hauled in all of the employee files, the bios. Legit ones are mixed in with the Pro's so it might be okay. But since you bailed me out it might be good if you made yourself scarce for a while."

Leave town? Now he was expected to leave town? He felt his anger building and pushed it down. "How am I supposed to leave town when I have no cash?"

Kelvin's brown eyes came up to meet his. "I dunno, man, but you got a brother right? Maybe he could float you some cash?"

Michael threw the car in gear at this and clenching his jaw to bite down on the words that were aching to fly out, he sped out of the parking structure.

He had a brother all right. A brother that disapproved of his lifestyle, but would help him in any way that he could. He knew this. Lincoln had always helped him. But Michael also knew his brother didn't have much money. And what little money Lincoln did have, Michael wouldn't ask him for it.

Michael saw only one solution to his problem and it was quite possibly too late. If Sara had spoken to her parents, had already told them she'd split with her fiancé, he didn't know what he was going to do.

(Sara)

Sara felt arms go around her from behind and smiled. Placing her hands on Amy's she gave them a quick squeeze before her friend pulled away. "What was that for?"

"I dunno, I guess I just thought you might need a hug today." After a beat, "Did you call your folks yet?"

The conversation she had been dreading second only to 'the' conversation was upon her now and Sara was pretty sure Amy wasn't going to let it go until she gave her an answer. Turning with a sigh, Sara leveled her eyes with her friend's. "Nope, but I swear on those blueberry muffins you brought in this morning, that I will call my mom tonight and fess up. Okay?"

"Okay." Amy turned away without another word and started straightening the small children's books on the counter. Something was up. Sara wasn't sure what, but in the time she had known Amy, her friend had never had a one word comeback to anything. "Ahem…" She cleared her throat and Amy's teal eyes shot up to meet her inquisitive copper ones. "What?"

"What's going on? I mean the hug was nothing, 'cause you practically look for excuses to hug people, but 'okay?' what kind of reply is that?" Amy gave her a look and then it faded into a soft sigh, "Fine. I was just trying to be the quiet, understanding friend for once. I figured you didn't need me to hassle you into calling your mother." She propped an elbow on the counter and leaned into it as if settling in for a long conversation.

"Since when have you ever been quiet?" Sara teased, a smile lighting her features. "I've known you almost six years and you've never been quiet."

"Yeah well, don't get used to it, huh? Hey, have you figured out what to get for Katie and Paul? Wedding's in ten days you know?"

"Well I was thinking of just chopping off my head, putting it in a box and mailing it off to Cali." Sara joked. "It would save my sister the trouble of putting it on the chopping block when I show up alone." Amy cracked up at this and Sara joined in with her friend's laughter.

At least she could still laugh about her life. And like they always said, if you could joke about something you were okay. She was still laughing when the little bell above the door sounded. But the laughter died on her lips when she saw Michael moving through the store. He was headed straight towards her.

(Chapter End Notes:) 

Just a quick note about my head joke. I am one of the biggest MiSa shippers out there. I was/am still saddened by the loss of them as well as Dr. Sara Tancredi as a stand alone character. I wrote this joke in because I am just beginning to feel a bit better about this whole mess, and I think humor helps us heal. I will miss Sara/MiSa on PB so much, and I cannot imagine Michael moving on without her.

Thanks

Julie


	7. Chapter 7

Sara stood staring, her mouth falling slightly agape, as his long legs moved him up the center aisle of the store. The simple white dress shirt he wore, sleeves rolled up to expose his tanned forearms burned into her retinas as her coppery eyes sped along his jean clad thighs. She couldn't miss the denim, worn in all the right places, hugging his body, and the boldness of her stare made her blush.

Clearing her throat Sara forced her fidgeting hands still in front of her and commanded her eyes back to the space just above his head. If he hadn't already noticed the heat in her eyes he was sure to see it in her cheeks.

Amy, standing just behind her, reminded Sara of her presence with a light nudge, and sent a whispered "Good, God," buzzing through the air. Sara's hand moved up as if to swat the words away, her nervous fingers then pushing at her hair, giving them something to do as they teased the long strands back from her face.

"Sara, umm, I'm sorry I, ah," Michael's eyes moved apologetically to her friend.

"Amy," a smile and a little wave in Michael's direction later, "and I was just headed into the office to do some paperwork. Nice to see you again, Michael." Amy turned and catching Sara's eye, mouthed "Woo-hooo," her eyebrows shooting up to match the brilliant smile that split her features. Sara gave her friend a desperate look that went ignored and then Amy was gone, the echo of the office door going closed announcing her exit.

"Um, can I help you find something, Michael?" Despite her friend's encouragement Sara figured she would treat this as what it most likely was; Michael had liked the store and was returning to make another purchase.

"Actually I was hoping that you would agree to join me for coffee in the park. It's a beautiful day, and I was hoping we could talk." He nodded towards the two cups of coffee he was holding in his hands. It was only then that it occurred to Sara one of them might be meant for her.

Surprise hit her like a glass of cold water in her too hot face, his invitation having had just that affect, dousing her with an excitement that was making its presence known with a new kind of nervousness.

"Oh, um…" She was nodding her head profusely and forced herself to stop, lest she make herself dizzy. And besides she could only imagine how dorky she must look, standing there, eyes wide, looking like a human bobble head at best. "I'd like that, sure…Just let me tell Amy I'm leaving."

The smile that met her across the counter sped her heart and his words burned through her warming her without a touch, "Great, I'll be waiting right here."

A shaky hand pushed open the office door and then she was safely inside. Amy looked up from the computer screen, her usually riveted eyes moving with no effort from the Prison Break forum. She was far too curious about events in her best friend's RL today to be sucked into the realm of chatting about heads in boxes and Thinking woman's Muffin. "Well?" At Sara's hesitation, "Come on, Kid, spill it!"

"He wants me to join him for coffee…In the park." Sara felt the smile tugging at her lips and gave into it as Amy's infectious grin surfaced.

"Awesome! So what are you doing in here with me? Go!" Sara was turning to do just that when Amy's voice rang out behind her. "But I want full details ASAP!"

Shaking her head, her smile still in place, Sara headed out of the office.

XXXXX

The park bench was hard beneath her thighs, but Sara hardly noticed as the wind gently blew the small tendrils of hair back from her face. Shortly after they had arrived at the sunlit park Michael had pulled several packets of sugar from his pockets and deposited them between them on the bench.

He hadn't spoken since, but she was only too aware of the sunlight dancing in his eyes as he stirred his coffee. It reminded Sara of the ocean back home, a warm day on the beach as the waves sparkled a brilliant blue, tempting her from a coveted spot on the beach. His eyes were so much like the ocean she loved and feared, feared because no matter its beauty she knew its depths were cold and she feared the same coldness in his eyes, she had witnessed it a few short days ago in the bookstore.

Shaking herself from the grasp of his eyes on her senses she plucked the top off of her own coffee cup.

"You take cream, right? I thought I remembered that from our, ah…Date." Flushing a little at his mention of the night they had met she nodded her head, her empty fingers falling in unison on a packet of sugar.

She forced care into her movements then as she ripped open the small packet, the fear of hot, scalding coffee lessened by the fear of humiliation were she to spill the cup's contents on herself in her nervousness.

Why did this man make her so nervous? He seemed to have that affect on her and it was only growing with each encounter. Encounter, God that was so 'not' a good description of her run-ins with Michael. Run-ins, yes now there was a fitting descriptive.

She dumped the sugar into the cup, her hair falling down to cover her face as she worked. It wasn't until she had stirred the steaming brew that she raised her head, a hand shooting out to push the stubborn strands behind an ear.

She glanced up to find his eyes intently staring and it almost undid all of her careful doings. Tightening her hold on the cup, suddenly grateful for industrial strength paper, she saved the day or at least her dignity when her firm grip paid off; spilling not a drop.

She met his eyes for a moment and then self consciously pulled her eyes away. Why was he looking at her like that? She had a horrible moment where she couldn't remember what kind of muffin she had eaten at the store that morning. Was it poppy seed? Were her teeth a mess of the tiny black bullets, shooting down any chances she might have of this being anything more then an act of pity, with Michael only here to see if she was okay?

Her lowered head jerked up, her confirmed fears joining the wind as they blew over her, his voice joining the chirping of birds, the subdued sounds of passing cars she had all but filtered out with her fears, her nervous thrumming energy. "Sara, about your sister's wedding…" Here we go, she thought with dread, now he would ask her if she was okay and she would lie and say everything was fine. A few sips of coffee later, the 'nice guy' in him would be satisfied he had done his duty and he could leave her there with only the warmth of the sun and the heat of the coffee in her hand to rival the hot embarrassment in her cheeks.

She was opening her mouth to save him any further awkwardness on her behalf when he continued, his words shocking her tongue silent. "If it's not too late, I'd like to take you up on your offer, I'd like to take the job." She almost did drop her coffee then, but managed to hold onto it, dropping her eyes instead.

Was this really happening? She was a mere five, six hours tops from the phone call she had been dreading for weeks and here he was, almost a Prince Charming coming to her rescue. She took a second but only that to think how hopelessly romantic and pathetic her analogy was given the situation and then her thoughts were broken by his tender voice.

"Sara?"

She looked up at him, a noticeable tremble starting in her hands as the cup began to shake. Tears sprang to her eyes and she swallowed them back. "Um, I thought um, I guess I thought you were busy, and um…" This spoken her eyes darted back down, and into the steaming brew she held in her hand.

Saving her from any further mangling of the English language, "Yeah, I was, but I ah, I guess you could say I suddenly find myself available? So if you still need me..?" He left his sentence hanging from a smile, and Sara; as if afraid the meager breeze might run off with it, spoke quickly. "Yes! I mean…yes the…The job is still yours if you want it." She felt his eyes and looked up meeting them; her first thought that the sky must be furious they had stolen a piece of its beauty.

His next words floored through her then and all thought was swept aside as a nervous excitement hit her, making anything she had felt previously in his presence seem like a walk in the park.

"Okay then, I think we should maybe get to know each other a little better, don't you?" 


	8. Chapter 8

Jumping up from her spot in front of the television, Sara made her way to the door. Her eyes traveled over three day's worth of clutter and she said a silent prayer for Jehovah's Witnesses or even better maybe a girl scout selling cookies, then she would have something to munch on while watching Prison Break.

Running a quick hand through her hair Sara peeked out the small peephole in her apartment door. She jumped back at the sight of Michael standing there, his hands full of takeout bags.

"Oh, God!"

Looking around at her apartment, Sara surveyed the damage. The newspapers, the odd sweater lying on the chair, the place was a mess. He would think her a slob. She quickly grabbed everything within reach and shoved it into the closet promising herself she would retrieve it later. Next her anxious eyes traveled over her pink pajamas.

"Oh, God!"

A small knock reminded her she didn't have time to ponder her wardrobe and she rushed to the door, pulling it open only to stand to the side blocking her pajama clad body with the wooden barrier.

"Is this a bad time?"

She stared at him, her tongue refusing to work, the blue t-shirt he wore hugging his body in all the right places having drawn her eyes. "Um, no!" She said a little too sharply as she pulled her eyes up to his face. "I mean I was just watching TV. Come in…Please."

Pulling the door open wide she self consciously stepped out into the open. His eyes moved over her and a smile hit his lips. Strawberry shortcake, fan huh?"

Her cheeks flushing a thousands shades of crimson, "Um, they were a gift from Amy, actually."

His teasing eyes left her and he moved to the table in front of the sofa where he deposited the bags. "It's Chinese, I hope that's okay?" His eyes moved up to meet her confused stare and then it dawned on her, he was talking about the takeout.

"Yeah, I mean yes, I love Chinese food. I'll, ah, I'll get some plates." Sara moved to the kitchen and swung through the door, glad for the escape, albeit temporary. Once on the other side she leaned against it and looked down at her Strawberry shortcake pjs. Of all the days to be wearing them!

Her mind quickly flew through the contents of her pajama drawer and she sighed. Most of her things were either silly or purchased with comfort in mind, so really it could be worse. She had to face it her Star war's pajamas weren't much to look at either.

Forcing action from her limbs, Sara quickly grabbed some plates and utensils from the drawers. Now for something to drink…Pulling open the refrigerator her eyes scanned the shelves hopefully. She sighed in relief and her fingers closed over the two beers Dwayne had left there weeks ago.

Suddenly Michael's words at the park came back to her. "I think we should get to know each other a little better, don't you?" She almost dropped the plates and beer. She played through the rest of the conversation in an effort to calm her sudden case of nerves. He had gone on to explain that if they were to fool her family they needed to get some basic facts down, like where she had gone to school, their likes and dislikes, things that an engaged couple would be expected to know about each other.

Still, here she was in her pj's, sexy or not and she was about to eat dinner with him in his definitely sexy blue t-shirt…What if?

Blushing profusely she pulled her mind out of the gutter and tightened her grip on the plates and slippery beer bottles. Telling herself nothing was going to happen she forced herself to move. A deep breath later she was pushing through the door to make her way to the coffee table where she deposited her arm load of goods. "I hope you like beer, but if not I think I have a few colas."

He was standing at the window looking out. "Sara this is um, this is not through the agency, you know that right?" He turned then, his eyes a serious blue.

She nodded, "Yeah, I figured it was, um not…I figured that was the case." Sara wasn't sure what it mattered unless he was worried about his boss finding out, that he would be fired or maybe have to give him a percentage of the sale? That sounded so horrible inside her head, but as co-owner of a business it was her natural way of thinking about a transaction. A transaction! She flushed and shifted her eyes down to the coffee table where he had unpacked the small white containers.

"I'm gonna need the, ah, the money upfront, as soon as possible."

She nodded, "Okay just um, just let me go get my checkbook." She was turning to fetch her handbag when he spoke up, "Cash, um, Sara, I need it to be cash."

"Oh, um, okay, I ah, I can get it in the morning before work. If you want to stop by the store or ah, come for dinner here tomorrow?"

Had she just suggested they eat dinner together tomorrow when they hadn't even made it through a successful first meal together, well that is if you didn't count their first date and she didn't, she had been too busy worrying about what her parents were thinking all night, not to mention the fact that she and Michael had spent very little time alone together.

His eyes met hers, "Sounds good. I think the more time we spend together the better. Maybe it will help you relax a little." His words hit her and Sara felt her cheeks burn. Was her discomfort so obvious?

Noticing her expression, "You're not exactly comfortable around me, Sara. Not like a fiancée would be." She saw something pass through his eyes, a brief sadness and then it was gone as if he realized his guard was down, his shield had slipped away and she might see a bit of what he was thinking. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I seem to make you a little nervous."

Sara felt her tongue thicken as she thought of a response. He was right of course, he did make her nervous; about as nervous as a cat in a rocking chair factory, but if she were to try to explain it?

Finally finding her voice, "I ah, I guess it's just that you're so…um, so different then ah, the other Michael, my ex…The engineer? He was um, not as…um." She stalled out not sure how to continue her sentence without hopelessly embarrassing herself. Michael's eyes gave away nothing of what he was feeling, what he might be thinking as he waited for her to continue and that only made Sara more nervous.

"Oh God, he's an engineer…Which means you're an engineer!" She blurted this out as if it had suddenly just occurred to her. "What are we going to do if someone asks you something about your job…?" She had simply wanted to jump to another subject, but was suddenly wringing her hands as the very real possibility hit her. He knew nothing about engineering. They were screwed.

Michael was suddenly beside her. When had he moved so close? Her eyes shot up when his warm fingers closed over hers. "Relax, Sara, if someone asks I'll just say it's been three years since I've managed to get away and I really don't like mixing business with pleasure." As he spoke his hands had splayed out to either side of him, a small smile falling across his face as if to say 'I got it covered'.

Another one of his sarcastic inside jokes Sara couldn't help but think, and then ignoring his overly confident demeanor, "But someone, my father in fact, is going to be pushier then that...You don't know him like I do, Michael. What if he asks you something and you don't know what to say?"

"Sara, just relax, okay? I may not be an engineer, but I am a fairly intelligent guy. I think I can BS my way through a couple of questions. Besides this thing is about Katie, right? Who's gonna care what building I'm currently working on here in Chicago?"

A light bulb went on in Sara's head. "I know, we could use a search engine to find some construction sites in the Chicago area."

He leveled his eyes with hers, the blue depths less warm as if she were swimming into dangerous territory. "Now you've offended me."

He made to move to the door and Sara shocked herself by reaching and grabbing his arm, anchoring him to the spot. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I ah…" She saw the laughter in his eyes and slapped at him when it burst through his lips and into the room. "That's not funny, Michael!" She felt the hurt slip away and then her own laughter was bubbling out. "It's not funny!" She repeated. A beat later, overcome with giggles, "Okay so it is funny, but it was mean too!"

He was still smiling, his laughter having taken the edge off the serious guise he seemed to feel most comfortable in. And she had to admit it had helped her relax a little. She had a feeling that was what he was hoping to acheive with his joking.

When they could both breathe again he reached for her hand. It was a casual gesture, but it shocked the final vestiges of laughter from her.

"Come on let's go eat dinner before it gets cold."

She nodded in silent acquiescence and forced herself to relax a little. She knew if this were to work she had to stop feeling such a jolt of reaction at his touch.

Taking a deep breathe she settled down beside him and watched as he began to open up the carton of chicken fried rice.

(Later)

Fighting a yawn, lest Michael decide she was tired and it was time to leave, Sara leaned back in her spot next to him on the sofa. They had talked while eating, their discussion beginning with favorite foods and movies.

Sara was surprised to learn that Michael liked most of her favorite dishes and they had recently enjoyed the same movies on DVD. It seemed neither of them liked going to the local cinemas, preferring instead to wait and purchase or rent the movies to watch at home.

From there they had moved on to where they had attended high school. They had talked for over an hour, quizzing each other on areas they thought they might need to know in a pinch. Sara had racked her brain for any and everything she might have told her family about Michael the engineer and added that to the mix.

When the conversation tapered off they had settled in to watch a Prison Break marathon on a local television station, a bottle of wine open between them. Sara made a mental note now to tell Amy that hot gigolo Michael was also a fan of the show.

Suddenly realizing they had forgotten something she turned to him. "How old are you? I mean we never discussed our Birthdates. I mean that's something an engaged couple would know, right?"

His eyes moved from the commercial on the TV screen to her face. "Good catch. I'm Thirty…June 2nd I'll be thirty-one…How bout you?"

"I'll be twenty-five in December…um the 19th. "

He nodded. A beat later, as if it had just occurred to him, "How old was the engineer?"

Sara looked back at the screen wishing she hadn't brought this up. "He was um, a little older...around forty." Michael was quiet and she could picture him sitting there with his eyebrows up, judging her. "Okay, forty-two, but I never mentioned it to my family, believe me I would remember that." She still hadn't looked at him.

"Hey, it's no big deal. I mean, I'm sure he was, ah, I'm sure he had some redeeming qualities?"

Sara laughed and let her head fall to the side finally looking at him. "Are you kidding me? He was a jerk, he cheated on me. He was probably only with me for…" She had been about to say that he was most likely only with her for the sex but stopped herself. She didn't want to go into this with Michael. She didn't want to explain to him how the longest relationship with a man she had ever had, had turned out to be not only a nightmare, but a huge mistake to begin with.

Letting it drop her eyes moved back to the screen. The commercial had just come to an end and she couldn't help but think what great timing, as it gave her an excuse to look away from him, to avoid his eyes.

"For what it's worth, I don't think you give yourself enough credit." Her eyes moved back to him hesitantly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're a pretty girl, Sara. Sorry...Woman," he corrected himself with a small smile. "You have a great career; doing what you love...What man wouldn't like that?"

Sara's cheeks bloomed red and she ducked her head down, her auburn tresses reminding her why she would never chop it all off. If she did she would have nothing to hide behind.

She had no answer for this, so she remained silent. Soon their eyes trailed back to the screen where they both watched quietly, but if Sara hadn't already memorized the script she wouldn't have been able to tell you what transpired on the screen. Her mind was too busy replaying his words. "What man wouldn't like that?" If she was so interesting then why was she alone? Why was she here with a paid escort instead of a real boyfriend, someone who wasn't just trying to boost her confidence for monetary gain?

A small sigh escaped her lips as a McDonald's commercial began, its egg mcmuffin tempting despite the Chinese food she had eaten for dinner. Feeling Michael's eyes upon her Sara chanced a look his way.

"I don't think you mentioned when we leave for California? I've been meaning to ask."

"We leave on the fourth of June, but the weddings on the seventeenth. We fly home on the eighteenth." She threw this in to save him asking. She was sure this last was what was most on his mind, how soon before his duties would be over, how soon before he could get back to Chicago and forget the whole thing ever happened.

"Ten days?" His eyes clouded over in surprise and something else, dismay?

"Um, yeah, did you think it would be sooner?" She could tell she was right, he had thought he would be rid of her sooner. It does give us more time to prepare?" She tried softly.

Sara watched him take this in his eyes remaining the same clouded hue. "Yeah, sure, it's fine. I did think it was...I thought we would be leaving soon, that's all." A beat later, "I should probably go. It's getting late and I'm sure you need to be up early in the morning."

He stood up as her eyes fell on the now empty wine and beer bottles littering the table. He had drunk most of it, with Sara only sipping at a glass of the dry red wine she had opened.

As much as he wanted to be out of there, and she was sure Michael had had enough of her company for one night, Sara couldn't just let him leave. She was against drinking and driving. "Are you sure you're okay to drive? I mean you had a lot of wine and...You can sleep on my sofa if you think you need to?"

He studied her for a brief moment and then, "Yeah, okay, if it's not a problem? I guess I drank more then I meant to. It's been a long week." He made himself comfortable on the sofa as Sara hopped up. "I'll ah, I'll just get you a blanket and some pillows."

Heart pounding at the idea of Michael sleeping at her place, albeit on the sofa, Sara made her way to the closet and pulled open the door. She had totally forgotten about all of the newspapers she'd stashed there earlier in the evening. As they tumbled out she felt her face turn red. Hoping he hadn't noticed she quickly shoved them deeper into the closet and grabbed her spare blanket.

A quick trip to her bedroom later, Sara presented Michael with sheets and pillows along with the blanket.

"Thanks."

His smile made her stomach do flips. "You're welcome…Um, goodnight, Michael,"

"Goodnight, Sara."

With a quick glance over her shoulder, Sara made her way through her small apartment to her bedroom. She was suddenly wide awake, but she did have to be up early in the morning.

Sighing softly Sara turned off the light and snuggled under the blankets. Despite her worries, she was soon asleep and dreaming of the bluest eyes she had ever looked upon. 


	9. Chapter 9

The pounding of her heart woke Sara from the dream and she sat up in bed. The light sweat coating her body was making the thin material of her pajamas cling to her and she was so thirsty. Cheeks reddening at the memory of the dream, she pulled at the sticky garments covering her chest.

The dream had been so vivid, his mouth, his hands, her own enthusiasm. She felt an ache deep within at the images now fading from her mind, but not her body, no her body was still very much awake, alert with longing. If only she could hold on to the dream, maybe force sleep and continue from where it had left off?

Flopping back onto the sheets she closed her eyes. Sara was trying not to think about the fact that the star of her dream was sleeping out on the sofa, but it was a lost cause. Her mind was already there.

He was most likely lost in slumber, his own body warm beneath the blankets. A sigh escaped her and the heat in her built. If she were brave, a bit more confident she would go to him, slide beneath the warmth of the blankets and…She had to stop thinking about this. There was no way she would do it. She wasn't brave, she wasn't sexually confident. But she 'was' thirsty enough to drink the Pacific dry.

Sliding quietly out of bed, she headed out the door and padded through the dark living room on silent, bare feet. She was figuring the noise from the sink in the kitchen would be less then that of the much closer bathroom. She passed him by without a glance, her fear that she would be rooted to the spot and caught like a deer in headlights when he woke to find her standing there, strong. And he undoubtedly would catch her staring what with her luck in such matters.

Having gone unnoticed, Sara let out her breath and slid with ease through the kitchen door. A flip of the light switch sent her to the cupboard where she kept the glasses. She turned on the tap and waited for it to run cold, silently counting the seconds until she could quench her thirst. Sliding her glass under the flow she filled it and then took a deep gulp. The cold liquid filled her throat, reviving her. God that was good!

Not as good as…"Stop it!" She scolded aloud and then wanted to kick herself. It would be even worse if she were to wake him while talking to herself. How would she explain it? He probably already thought she was a flake, how could he not with her hair brained schemes and desperation? She didn't want him to think her certifiable as well.

Emptying the glass, she quietly set it in the sink. Now all she had to do was make it back to the bedroom without waking him.

Easing through the door she sped the short distance to the living room. Her intention was a repeat of her trip to the kitchen, eyes straight ahead without looking at him, but when she saw the light hitting his bare skin she froze in her tracks, her breath halting in her chest to send her heart galloping.

He was so beautiful. She stood watching the rise and fall of his chest, his taught stomach well defined in its musculature. The line of hairs below his belly button drew her eyes and she was caught. Not by him, he was still asleep, but she was caught none the less. Caught in an ocular fantasy as her dream came crashing back fluidly, each kiss each caress almost making her moan in its vividness.

The bookstore, they had been in the erotica section of all places when it happened. His mouth falling on hers, his hands moving over her body like he owned it, and he could own if he wanted, she knew this. This admission scared Sara, this and the fact that she wanted him that much.

How was she to do this? How was she to touch Michael, to allow him to touch her enough to make her family believe that she had been intimate with him when the very idea made her dizzy with want, a want that would go unfulfilled? She was just a job to him.

A soft moan in his sleep filled the air sending Sara moving. Her embarrassment at having him catch her was something she knew she would never be able to live down. In fact it would probably send her running for the phone, a confession on her lips the second her sister answered, thus ending the whole deal.

Once behind the closed door of her bedroom she let out her held breath. She would try to get some more sleep, yes she should do that. But the image of him laying there, the soft moan playing in her head would not leave.

Tossing and turning, it was some time before Sara found sleep, the fingers of dawn waving gaily from the window taunting her heavily blinking eyes before she fully succumbed.

The alarm clock was on full alert. What seemed like only moments after her eyes fell shut it was blaring, and Sara was pulling her tired frame from the warmth of her bed.

She had to get a shower and head into work. Her feet took her from the room, her mind too tired to remember her house guest despite the interruption of sleep said guest had invited.

It took only a few seconds of him standing in the hall, the sight of him dripping in a towel slung low on his hips to bring back full memory of not only his presence, but the dream that had stolen her sleep.

"Sorry, I thought you were still asleep." He stood with no obvious discomfort, as if completely comfortable in his state of undress despite her darkened copper gaze.

Sara pulled her eyes up to his face and mumbled something before heading passed him into the bathroom. Moments later, alone, she tried to make sense of her words but her memory failed her. Had she made any sense at all? God she hoped so!

Closing her eyes she stood in the steam of the bathroom for a moment trying to clear her eyes and mind of the sight of him wet and so…unclothed. Memories of the night before as she stood staring filled her head and she forced movement into her limbs. She needed to cool off.

Cranking the water on high Sara then pulled off her PJs. The next thing she knew a jolt of cold water was hitting her bed warm skin leaving her gasping. But it did the trick, she could now think coherently. She forced herself to remain under the arctic stream for a few moments as cold clarity washed over her and then adjusted the taps to allow some warmth. So she had seen Michael in a towel, so what? She pushed the image from her mind refusing to let the thought grow heated and grabbed the soap.

Washing quickly she finished up, her hair now hanging in fragrant, auburn streams down her back. Moments later she was pulling back the shower curtain and stepping out into the cooler air of the bathroom. Grabbing a towel she soaked some of the water from her hair but decided to forgo the usual turban. She didn't want to scare Michael.

Her robe was hanging on the back of the door in its usual spot. Grabbing it she pulled it on and tightened the belt around her thin frame. Okay she was ready and she couldn't stay in the bathroom all day so…After all, work was waiting for her. She was trying to convince herself that staying in the bathroom wasn't an option. A deep breath later, Sara was pushing the bathroom door open, her intention to head straight to her room.

Half way there her head jerked up as noises drifted from the kitchen. What was he doing in there? Her curiosity piqued, she turned and headed to the door for a quick peek. The sight of Michael still wearing only a towel and now making coffee shocked her back, the door slipping in her fingers to thud shut. The pain hit her instantly, her squashed digits screaming bloody murder as her mouth opened to voice the sentiment. She was backing away. She wanted to run, to hide the fact that she had been spying on him but it was too late.

The next she knew his hand was cradling her throbbing fingers. Oh God, why was this happening? Why was she always such a clutz around him? She forced her eyes up to Michael's face as he looked at her red fingers.

"I don't think they're broken. They are red though. You may end up with a bruise or two." He was turning her hand in his and seemed oblivious to her silent stare as his blue eyes roved over her fingers, taking in the damage.

"Why are you still in a towel?" Had she really just asked that?

He grinned and looked down at himself, his eyebrows coming up whimsically. "Well, if someone hadn't taken off for the bathroom so quickly this morning I'd be fully dressed by now. I didn't have a chance to grab my stuff. And I didn't think you would appreciate being disturbed. I'm guessing they're still in there…my clothes?" His head moved in a gesture towards the bathroom door.

Sara nodded. "Um, yeah, I mean I guess so. I hadn't noticed." Her cheeks were on fire. So she was to blame for his attire, or lack of? She pulled her fingers out of his hand and moved away, heading in the direction of her bedroom. Her fingers still hurt like a bitch, but she was barely feeling the pain now. She was too embarrassed by her reaction and just needed to get away from him, away from the situation. "I have to get ready for work."

She heard him saying he would show himself out and then she was safely leaning against her closed door.

Once dressed and ready for work, she pushed open the door to an empty living room. In the time it had taken for Sara to get ready Michael had finished his coffee and left.

She grabbed her handbag and headed for the door. Turning, she looked back at the now empty room, her gaze falling on the neat pile of folded blankets and sheets stacked next to the pillows on the sofa.

He hadn't been gone long and already she found herself missing him.

(Later)

He could have waited to take a shower once back at his place, but Michael really didn't want to spend too much time there. He was afraid the police would decide to come looking for him.

According to Kelvin, Michael shouldn't worry, the police looking into all of his company dealings was normal procedure, but Mike should still stay on the down low. Kelvin's exact words when he had spoken with him that morning.

Not that the police had anything on Michael, but the whole thing made him nervous. And Kelvin's insistence that his employees at the escort service where covered, that everything within the company looked legit did little to allay Michael's fears. Kelvin hadn't told him much on the day he bailed him out, but Michael had since learned that his boss's arrest was due to alleged activities involving his other company, a poolroom/strip joint, called 'Knock em in' of all things. Alleged indeed, it was looking like the charges brought against his boss for illegal gambling, and prostitution where the strippers were concerned, might stick. It seemed Kelvin was not only a pimp, but also a bookie.

More and more the whole thing just pissed Michael off.

Kelvin should never have involved him in any of this; he should never have asked him to post bail; that was what worried Michael, suspicion being cast his way, being assumed guilty by association. He knew he should just let the police haul him in and plead ignorance to any and everything they threw his way, but he was worried. So here he was sneaking around like a thief in the night.

His long legs moved him through the parking structure and out onto the street. The morning air was already warm and the sunlight on his bare forearms felt good, promising for another beautiful spring day. It lent a false sense of well being to those more fortunate, those who still believed in such a thing. But it would take more then spring sunshine for Michael to pretend that his life was not in a complete upheaval, that he wasn't virtually homeless.

Michael's trip to his apartment was for one purpose only, grabbing some clothes and essentials. He figured he could be in and out within minutes with no one the wiser. Come night he would have to, what, stay at Sara's place again? He wasn't sure how she would feel about that after their awkward morning together. But still, he was due back there for dinner.

Sara's reaction to him was just another bane in an already hopeless situation as far as Michael was concerned. He was beginning to worry. How were they going to pull this off if she was so nervous around him? He had tried to make her more comfortable the night before, joking with her, the wine… A Prison Break marathon…Nine days to make this work…But also nine days of sneaking around he reminded himself as he rubbed his hand along his sore, stiff neck muscles. Sara's sofa wasn't exactly built for his 6'1 frame.

"Hi, Mrs. P," his voice sounded normal enough, he was somehow managing to disguise his weariness. The elderly lady was a tenant in his building. Usually Mrs. P could be found in the court yard, a book clutched to her bosom as the sunlight played upon her features. Her fondness for romance novels hadn't escaped Michael and he often wondered why she had yet to be snatched up by some lucky senior.

At the sight of her now Michael couldn't help but think, if not for bad luck, he'd have no luck at all. So much for his ability to get in and out of his apartment with no one the wiser.

"Michael!" Her beaming smile was infectious. "I was just talking about you this morning."

His smile threatened to fall away, but he somehow managed to hide his concern. "Here let me take those in for you." Taking the grocery bags from Mrs. P's hands, he followed her into the building. He was hoping she would elaborate on her statement, but when they reached her door and she still hadn't offered an explanation he cleared his throat. "Mrs. P, you said you were talking about me this morning?"

"Oh, right! Well there was a nice man here to see you earlier, Michael." Pushing open the door she continued, "He said he would swing back by later this morning." A quick glance at her watch and her eyes came back level with Michael's. "If you can stick around, I bet it won't be long now. It did seem important that he speak with you."

Michael felt his stomach knot. "Yeah, I'm sure it was. I'll be sure to do that. Listen, Mrs. P, I gotta run, I mean I have to get home, so I'll see you around."

He set her groceries on the counter and gave her a smile before heading out the door. He hated to just leave like that, but his discomfort was growing by the second. Still Mrs. P was a sweetheart and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings with his abrupt exit, but it couldn't be helped.

His apartment was just around the corner from Mrs. P's, and he was making good time in reaching it. If not for the loud knocking Michael might have walked right into the large man standing in front of his door.

Ducking back, he stood just out of sight, heart pounding hard in his temples. All was quiet for a beat, the knocking having stopped. Michael was thinking maybe the man had given up and decided to leave.

He was about to stick his head around the corner for a peek when the man's voice startled through him. "Yeah, it's me…"

Who was this guy talking to? A few seconds passed convincing Michael that the conversation was one sided. The man was on the phone. His voice growing heated now, "I'll get the milk. I never said that I wouldn't" After a beat, "You're always putting words in my mouth! Listen, I gotta go, I'm working…Fine!" A sharp click like the sound of a cell phone snapping shut filled the air and then the man's fist was on Michael's door, his new found frustration evident in his aggressive knock. "Come on, open the fucking door!"

Most likely the man would give up and head straight to the exit which was in the opposite direction from where Michael was standing, but what if the officer, and there was no doubt in Michael's mind now that the man was indeed a cop. What if he decided to leave a message for Michael with Mrs.P?

His heart now slamming in his chest in panic, Michael backed up. There was a laundry room a few doors down. He slipped inside and decided to wait it out. Once the coast was clear he would slip into his apartment and grab some toiletries and a few days worth of clothes. After that he would play it by ear. He knew one thing for sure, he couldn't stay here. Not if he was to avoid the police and their questions.

Fifteen minutes had passed in total silence. Easing away from the wall, he made his way silently to the door and peered out. The hallway was empty.

Easing out the door he walked quickly to the side wall and stood listening; more silence. Taking a deep breath, Michael stuck his head around the corner. He let out his breath in relief. The man was gone. Moving quickly then, he rushed to his door and pushed in the key.

Five minutes later he was pulling the door shut and locking it behind him.

He now had enough clothing to last a week. Everything he needed was in the small bag clutched in his white knuckled hand 


	10. Chapter 10

His fist fell heavily on the door. Michael was hoping to catch his brother at home, but he wouldn't be surprised if Linc had already left for the day. Lincoln was spending most of his weekends with his girlfriend Sammie these days, their relationship having grown more serious over the last few weeks.

Figuring he would try back later, Michael reached and grabbed the large duffle bag at his feet. The sound of the door swinging open behind him stopped him in his tracks and he swung back to the now open doorway, a half smile hitting his lips at the sight of his older brother. "Linc, you're home. I was about to give up."

The look on his brother's face was a curious one, making Michael suspicious that he was possibly interrupting something. "Is it a bad time to be stopping by?"

"Yeah, you could say its bad timing." His eyes moved to the room behind him and then to the bag in Michael's hand, assessing the situation.

Lincoln, never one to turn his brother away no matter the inconvenience, "But if it's important…" He eased open the door and stepped into the room to allow Michael to enter.

Michael thought about it for a beat, his eyes roving over his brother's pajama bottoms, his bare chest and feet. Decision made, but still feeling like a bit of an intruder he stepped inside the apartment and closed the door.

He really didn't want to mess up some romantic interlude or something, put a damper on his big brother's plans. Eying his surroundings, Michael took in the room around him. Everything in the apartment looked the same, the usual mess present, making him wonder if he was maybe mistaken and Linc really did have the apartment to himself.

Michael set down his bag, drawing Lincoln's eyes to it again. "What's with the bag, you planning on movin' in or somethin'?" His tone was joking but the serious look Michael gave him dropped the smile from his lips. "What's up Mike, you in some kind of trouble?"

Michael's jaw clenched a little. "I guess you could say that." This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to come to his brother with any of this. And if he had any other place to stay he wouldn't be there right now, but this was it, he certainly couldn't assume that Sara would let him crash at her place, not after what happened that morning.

"Fox River trouble or slap on the hand kinda trouble, Mike?" Linc's tone held a dangerous edge.

Cool blue now on the defensive, Michael locked eyes with his brother. He knew what Lincoln was going to say to all of this, and his "I told you so" was the last thing Michael wanted or needed to hear right now.

"Kelvin got busted for illegal gambling and pimping out some strippers." Michael was careful to explain. He wanted to make it clear that the escort service his brother looked down on wasn't the reason behind the arrest.

"So how does this touch you, Mike? Why are you out on the street? No money to pay the rent, I'm guessing…Where does that leave Angela?"

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last too long, the room suddenly growing deadly still with tension.

His anger building, Michael was opening his mouth to answer, to tell his brother he would take care of Angela, not to worry for a second about that; to tell him to forget he'd even come there, when the door shot open and Sammie sprinted out wearing Linc's missing Pajama shirt.

Michael's eyes fell on the canister of Redi-whip she clutched in her right hand and then she was shoving it behind her back, her toes curling into the wood of the floor as if she wished to disappear. "Oh, ah, hi Michael, I didn't know we had company. I was just about to…To make breakfast…Pancakes…Anyone want whipped cream?" Sammie brought the can around and moved it back and forth in front of the brother's matching stony eyes.

"They're blueberry?" Her smile took the edge off his anger and Michael turned to his brother.

"Say yes, Michael, you know you wanna. You never could turn down blueberry pancakes and Sam's are the best."

Seeing this for what it was, if not a truce then a momentary reprieve, Michael nodded. "Yeah, okay. I guess I could eat." Truthfully the last thing that had passed through his lips was a stale muffin he had found at Sara's. He was starving.

"I'll just go wash up." He moved passed Sammie and she gave him a small smile. Michael was suddenly having a tough time believing Sammie had interrupted them by mistake. If he had to bet he would say she'd heard the whole argument and made her entrance in an effort to  
keep things from escalating, to save them from exchanging words they would both later regret.

She was a crafty one, that Sammie. Michael felt a smile touch his lips. His brother had certainly met his match. With this sudden realization Michael liked her even more.

(Later)

"You can crash here for as long as you like, Michael…But."

But, there was always a 'but' where his brother was concerned, always had been as far back as Michael could remember. "You can have this toy, but…You can borrow my car, but…" Wiping the syrup from the side of his mouth, Michael's eyes found his older brother's. "But..?"

Linc studied him for a beat before answering, "But the sofa is brown corduroy hell and it sleeps the same way. It's got a few broken boards. You'll likely wake up bent in half."

Hiding his relief, Michael glanced over his shoulder at the sofa in question. "I've slept on worse." He thought of Sara's much smaller sofa, his neck aching with the memory. "It'll be fine. I'll only be here a little over a week."

Mopping up the syrup with the last bite of pancake, he popped it in his mouth. He was amazed that breakfast had gone over without the major blow up he had been expecting. Of course this was the first mention of his request to stay there, the better part of the meal having been spent with Sammie telling them about her British Nan's pancake recipe to fill the silence.

"These were great Sammie, thanks."

"Anytime Michael," Sammie smiled and hopped up from her spot at the table. "I'll just clear these dishes really quick."

"Need some help, Babe?"

Sammie leaned and planted a kiss on Linc's lips, her mouth lingering for a beat. "Nope," Her voice fell to a whisper as she leaned even closer, "Play nice." She grabbed the stack of dishes and headed for the kitchen.

They sat in silence then, two brother's who were much the same, but still very different.

As the seconds ticked away the silence began to play on Michael's nerves. He was waiting for the proverbial axe to fall, for his brother to say what was on his mind, what had been on his mind since Michael walked through the door.

"You know I can get you in at the construction company. Derek's always looking for good men, just say the word, Mike."

So this was it, another offer to help him find 'real' work.

"I don't need another job Linc, I just need a place to stay for a few days until things cool off. As soon as they do, I'll look for another escort service."

"You mean you'll look for another pimp."

Hating his brother's self righteous tone, "Yeah, I'll look for another pimp, okay?" Jaw tight, Michael pushed back from the table and stood.

Starting to turn away, he thought better of it and turned back to face his brother. "I do what I have to do, Linc. And I know you don't approve of it, you never have. But you don't have to. I don't need your approval."

"Mike, you're gonna get busted, man, you're gonna wind up in jail, don't you get that?" Linc stood quickly his emotions moving through his limbs almost toppling the chair. "This shit with Kelvin oughta tell you something…" Changing his tack, his voice softened, "How are you gonna help Angela if you're behind bars, Mike? Have you thought of that?"

"Yeah, well I can't exactly help Angela on a construction worker's wage, now can I?" Michael's cool blue eyes met his brother's.

"Then maybe you shouldn't help her, Mike. Maybe you should just let her go…"

Dead silence filled the room, their eyes locked in a fit of dueling blue.

"Don't ask me to do that, Linc. I can't do that and you know it!"

"Can't Michael, or won't?" After a beat, "This isn't for Angela, Michael. She wouldn't want this. She wouldn't want you to do this to yourself. She loved you too, Man. You're just punishing yourself for what happened. You blame yourself for the accident…It wasn't your fault Michael."

"You think you know everything, right?" This came out cold, arctic eyes blazing. "Or maybe you've just never loved someone like I love Angela." His knuckles grew white, his grip tightening on the chair back.

His brother bringing up the accident was a mistake and he could see that Lincoln regretted it immediately. This knowledge didn't stop Michael's next words from falling from tightened lips. He was too angry. "Don't ever assume you know how I feel about Angela, 'cause you have no clue. Not until you hold the woman you love as she lies bleeding and broken. Only then can you imagine how I feel, or what motivates me!"

Something drew Michael's eyes, halting his next words before they could leave his lips. Sammie was standing in the Kitchen doorway watching in silence, no whipped cream at the ready to diffuse the bomb that had exploded in the short time she was in the kitchen. His eyes met hers across the room. "I'm sorry for this. I shouldn't have come here."

"Michael," Linc's voice was gruff. "I'm just worried about you, Bro…Can't you see that?"

Ignoring his brother's pleas, Michael grabbed his bag and headed for the door. He wasn't sure where he was going to go, but he knew he couldn't stay there, he couldn't deal with nine days of this shit.

"Mike, where are you goin', man?"

Stopping when he hit the door, "To find someplace else to stay," Michael was through the door on the tail of his response, leaving Lincoln staring at the closed door, regret reflected in his eyes.

XXXXX

Having no where else to go, Michael had spent the better part of the day in the park. From his spot under a large oak tree he had a clear view of Sara's bookstore, Constant Reader. To his relief after what seemed like, and probably was hours later, she finally emerged.

Figuring she would head straight home, he had quickly walked the short distance to his car and driven to her place. That was almost an hour ago, an hour spent parked outside Sara's apartment complex waiting for her.

Taking a sip of his coffee, if you could call the lukewarm sludge in his cup, coffee, Michael reminded himself once again why he was technically not a stalker. Stalkers wanted to be engaged in this sort of activity. He had no choice.

Plus he hadn't spent the entire time at the park staking out Sara's store. Michael's afternoon alone had given him plenty of time to cool off. To think about his confrontation with his brother Lincoln.

The conversation played through his head again despite his resolve to stop thinking about it. In hindsight it had been foolish to even go to Linc's in the first place. Foolish to think he could get along with his brother for nine days.

Hell, they hadn't gone five minutes before Michael was forced to put up his defenses. And then when things calmed down Michael had thought maybe it would work...Just maybe.

But then Sammie left the room and everything changed. Michael realized now, that it was her presence that had kept the peace.

When Lincoln brought up Angela and the accident it was all Michael could do to hold back. He had been this close to asking Lincoln if he would just turn his back on the woman he loved. But then he saw Sammie standing in the doorway. She didn't deserve to be dragged into this. Michael really liked Sammie and he was sorry she had to hear any of it.

His cell phone vibrated again and he glanced at it, 'Lincoln'.

Michael's eyes moved back to the building. This was only one of many phone calls he had ignored from his brother that day.

His cell phone had gone off so many times at the park he'd finally given up and just turned it off. It had only been on for the last twenty-five minutes. Michael had made a quick call to check in on Angela and he must have forgotten to turn it back off.

He had plans to visit Angela the following day when he went in to pay her bills for the coming month, but she was on his mind so he had given in and made the call. He knew he wouldn't rest unless he did.

The phone fell silent and his eyes drifted back to stare at the now blank face of the cell, his brother's name having vanished.

Why did his relationship with his brother have to be so explosive? They had always been a little like two bulls butting heads but it wasn't until Michael took the job at the escort service…When he made the mistake of telling Lincoln what he really did for a living…That was when the rift between them started to grow.

Michael knew his brother loved him, that he would try to help him in any way he could, and that's what Lincoln thought he was doing with all of his advice, Michael was sure of it. It was so like his brother to think his advice was warranted, needed even. But Michael didn't want Linc's advice, he hadn't asked for it. And he certainly didn't need any advice where Angela was concerned.

A car passed drawing his attention, but it wasn't Sara.

Leaning back against the head rest Michael brought a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose. He was so tired, and his head was starting to throb. His night on Sara's sofa had been spent tossing and turning until he awoke in the morning twisted in the blankets, pillows on the floor; his head at an odd angle.

He moved his hand to massage the crick in his neck. If Sara would have him, he knew he would be spending another uncomfortable night on her sofa.

Sighing aloud his head came up. Her car shot into view at that moment and he ducked down causing his neck to scream out in protest.

A few minutes later he was easing back up to watch her approach her door. She had her hands full and he held his breath expecting her to drop at least one of the many bags, or even worse, what looked like a huge casserole dish to the ground. He winced when one of the bags started to slip, but she surprised him, her slim hand shooting out to snag it in mid air. Not a single item was lost to the ground.

Once Sara was inside Michael looked at his watch. He would wait ten minutes and then knock on her door.


	11. Chapter 11

(Sara)

Shoving the lasagna into the refrigerator along with the wine, Sara pushed the door shut. And she was happy to have said lasagna. It had been quite a feat getting Dwayne to let it go. It was his favorite and she could picture him now, standing there stroking his goatee, contemplating whether or not Amy would kill him if he sent Sara away empty handed.

In the end her puppy dog eyes had won him over, that and the threat of Amy's wrath no doubt. To Sara's relief he had shoved the casserole dish into her grateful hands. A quick promise to treat him to a lunch at chick fil-A in the near future and Sara was out of there, prize lasagna in hand. She had gone straight home from there having already shopped for the rest of that night's dinner.

Minutes later the groceries were unpacked and everything was either stowed away or set aside until needed.

Hands on her hips, Sara then weighted her options. She could begin to tidy up and then start the salad or take a quick shower. Feeling a bit grubby after unloading box upon box at the bookshop earlier that day, she opted for the latter. A quick shower would be refreshing and besides she had plenty of time before Michael was due for dinner.

Heading for the bathroom Sara's eyes surveyed her apartment. Really the kitchen was the worst, what with last night's dishes still needing attending to. The rest could wait. She wouldn't even think about the closet full of newspapers and discarded clothing. She could deal with that later after Michael went home, or maybe tomorrow.

She was steps from the bathroom when a knock sounded drawing her attention to the door. Coppery eyes shot with worry to her watch. Was he early? Thinking, hoping it couldn't be Michael, not this early; it was way too early for him, wasn't it?

Sara's feet sped to the door. A quick peek through the small peephole confirmed her fears. He was early. She wasn't ready! Why, oh why?

Closing her eyes briefly she sucked in a calming breath that was anything but. If anything it just fed oxygen to her racing mind speeding its efforts to trash the date before it even began.

Okay so he was early, she tried to rationalize. Okay so she probably had BO. Oh God, did she? She sniffed each armpit and let out a sigh of relief when all she could detect was her deodorant and the light perfume she always wore. It wasn't so bad. He would just have to keep himself entertained while she freshened up a bit, she tried to convince herself.

Taking another deep breath, her hand shot out and pulled open the door. "Hi!" She said a little too loudly for the short distance that separated them.

His smile hit her and she felt it, an almost physical blow in her stomach kicking up butterflies. "Sorry I'm kinda early, I know, but…"

"No it's okay, really!" She lied and threw open the door. I just got home but it's okay. Come in."

It wasn't until he stepped into the room that Sara noticed the large duffel bag he held in his hand.

Following her eyes to the bag, he set it down. Sara's mind sped through any and everything that could possibly be in the bag, but she came up blank. Unless…

Her thoughts were voiced before she could finish forming them coherently. "I was thinking maybe I should stay here for a while. You know the more time we spend together the better, right?"

Blinking in disbelief, Sara just stared at him, the gorgeous man who was moving in with her for the next week and some odd days. That is if Michael was serious.

"Um, okay. I mean that sounds good…I mean we do need to get more comfortable around each other…I do anyways…Around you." She was babbling again and she knew it. Clamping her lips shut, Sara forced her eyes up to his smiling face.

"Thanks. I'll just set this over here out of the way." He grabbed his bag and carried it to the other side of the room, where he put it next to the wall.

His stack of blankets were still where he had left them. "I'll just take these and put them…Somewhere." She had been about to say she would put the bed linen in the closet but remembering the last time she had opened the closet door she thought better of it.

Grabbing the stack of blankets up, she headed to the bedroom. "I'll just put them in here until tonight," she was speaking loudly to be heard, assuming he was still in the living room.

When she turned to find him standing in the doorway her eyes widened. She followed his gaze to her bed. "Do you mind if I ah, lie down for a while, I have this terrible headache." He reached to rub at a temple, his fingers grazing the mole at the side of his face drawing her eyes. "Sure, you can…Sure. Would you like some aspirin? I probably have something in my medicine cabinet."

His smile lit his eyes, "Yeah, that would be great, Sara thanks." He moved to the bed and sat down. Realizing she was still standing there staring at him she forced movement into her limbs. "I'll be right back with that aspirin."

A few minutes later, pain relievers and a tall glass of water in hand Sara entered the bedroom. "Here we go. I hope ibuprofen is okay…" Her words trailed off at the sight of him.

Michael was curled up on her bed asleep, his arms clutching her pillow, his brow smooth in sleep like a little boy. Sara stared at him for a beat and then forcing her eyes away she set the glass and the small pills on the night stand where he was sure to find them upon awakening.

Thinking she would let him sleep until dinner was ready and on the table, Sara quickly grabbed all she would need for her shower and headed out the door.

XXXXX

Piping hot lasagna on the table and everything else in it place Sara's eyes moved to the closed bedroom door. Michael had yet to emerge from his nap, and she knew she would have to wake him soon.

Coppery eyes falling on the deep red liquid in her glass she took it up and downed it. Was this her second or third glass of wine? Sara wasn't sure, but she was quite a bit more relaxed now. In fact she was so relaxed the idea of going into the bedroom and waking Michael seemed entirely doable.

Standing to her full height, Sara made her way to the bedroom door and knocked lightly. She thought she heard Michael's response but was unsure what was said so she pushed open the door. Michael was sitting up sipping from the glass of water she had left for him. Sara's eyes took in the presence of the small pills. He hadn't taken them, so maybe his headache was gone, having been slept off.

"Dinner's ready if you're hungry?" Not having moved from her spot, Sara was still standing in the doorway.

His eyes met hers as the glass touched the dark wood of the nightstand. "I'm starving. And thanks for these, but my headache's pretty much gone. I think I just needed to relax." He rubbed at his neck a little and then stood up stretching.

Sara drank in the slice of skin where his t-shirt rode up and then turned on her heels. She needed more wine.

Heading back into the living room, she made her way to the table, filled her glass and took a huge gulp. A few gulps later, and the glass was empty once again with only a red stain in the bottom to show for her pouring efforts.

She was just refilling her glass when Michael entered the room.

(Michael)

The aroma of the lasagna was intoxicating. And speaking of intoxication, Michael eyed the glass of wine in Sara's hand wondering if it was her first. The bottle on the table was almost empty and she seemed mellow, quite a bit more relaxed then usual.

Thinking this could be an interesting evening, he moved through the room to join her.

Moments later Michael was sitting across from her. "This looks great."

Sara smiled and sliced into the lasagna. "I can't really take any credit for the lasagna, Amy made it. But I did do the rest." She served him up a huge slice and then eased a much smaller slice onto her own plate. Not a drop of sauce hit the white table cloth in this action.

Once again Michael was impressed, not only with Sara's sudden dexterity in her obvious state, but also with her honesty. Having no idea he had seen her carrying in the large dish that now rested in the middle of the table, Sara could have very easily claimed dinner but she hadn't.

He studied her for a moment thinking she was unlike anyone he had ever met. Here she was lying to her parents about a fiancé that didn't exist but if he had to guess he would say it hadn't even occurred to her to be dishonest with him about who made the dinner she was serving him. And he doubted her wine consumption played any part in this. It was just her natural character.

A small smile fell over his lips and he took a bite. "This is great, really, Amy is quite the cook. And she seems like a really good friend." He met Sara's eyes, the candle light making them seem like burnt amber as they glowed across at him.

Sara gulped down her wine and then set the empty glass aside. "She's the best, Amy…My best friend since college." Were her words starting to slur a bit?

He nodded. Sara had mentioned this the night before.

He was taking a sip of wine and almost choked on it with her next words. "She thinks you and I should sleep together. That it would ease the tension, that maybe it would help me feel more comfortable with you."

He coughed into his napkin, the red wine stinging his throat. "What?"

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that, God why did I just say that? I think it's the wine…Yes it's the wine…It has to be, because I would never say that…Even if it is true, that Amy said it, not that we should, because we probably shouldn't!" Sara was wringing her hands and almost knocked over her empty glass. "I don't feel all that well."

Stumbling from the table she rushed for the bathroom. A beat later he could hear the door going closed none too gently.

"An interesting night indeed," Michael couldn't help but think as he blew out his held breath.

(Sara)

Her face felt hot, but no amount of cold water she doused on her blazing cheeks could erase the stain of embarrassment she felt.

Sara had pretty much heaved up her entire stomach contents and was now washing up, the fresh taste of tooth paste lingering in her mouth a welcome replacement for the foul taste she had just scrubbed away.

Why had she said that? How had Amy's words flown from her mouth like that, unbidden? And the thing was, Sara didn't even agree with her! Not when it came right down to it. Yes, she liked Michael; yes she wanted him, but to sleep with him so soon, and under these circumstances?

Sara felt a fresh wave of embarrassment hit her. How was she to go back out there after such an act? She would die first. Maybe she could just head straight to her room? Michael would most likely assume she was sick and just wanted to lie down.

Steeling herself to set her plan into motion, Sara pushed open the door and walked quickly to the bedroom door. She was inside in a heart beat.

Leaning against the door, she took in a huge gulp of air. Her eyes fell on the mussed bed and she could picture Michael there, curled up sleeping. She felt her eyes blur with tears of frustration. How was it she always seemed to screw things up? He probably thought she was silly.

Tears tipping onto hot cheeks, Sara stumbled the short distance to her bed. Grabbing the pillow he had rested upon she buried her face into it to soften the noise of her sobs.

In her state Sara didn't hear the door opening slowly. It was only when he spoke that she became aware of his presence.

(Michael)

"Sara," She was looking at him doe eyed and scared from her spot on the bed. He had been reluctant to bother her thinking maybe she was just feeling ill from the wine, but something told him there was more to her sudden disappearance into her bedroom. The tears shining on her cheeks now reinforced this belief as the low lighting picked them up.

He walked to her and sat in the small space her body wasn't occupying. Swiping at her tears as if embarrassed, Sara moved over to grant him more room. "I'm sorry." Her voice was soft and cracking from the tears when she finally addressed his presence

"Don't be. Here." He handed her the glass of water he had left on the night stand.

Sara took a few sips and handed it back before saying anything. "I feel so stupid…"

"You shouldn't because your right, your friend Amy is right. We have to do something to fix this ah…problem."

Her wide eyes met his before flitting away to land somewhere over his right shoulder. "You mean you think I need to…That we should have…that we need to sleep together?" She rambled out.

He didn't answer right away, but took her hand in his. "We can start out with this if you like? Touching one another, holding hands, the little things that couples do all the time." Her eyes moved to their hands and then to his face, his lips. Her eyes were hot as if they might ignite and he had his answer. He knew she wanted him, how could he not? Michael knew that look well. In his line of work he was met with it daily, usually at the door of his clients as they ushered him in. And what was Sara but just another client?

Closing himself off Michael leaned in to brush his lips against hers. Sara's fingers squeezed his and her lips parted for the gentle probing of his tongue as it slipped inside her mouth. It would all feel so natural to her, but ever the professional, Michael had thought this out before entering the bedroom. He would let her take this as far as she wanted and not a step further.

Easing up he pulled her to a sitting position, the short sleeved blouse she was wearing encouraging the perfect place to start. His lips fell at her wrist to suck gently at the pounding pulse beating within and then he was moving up her arm in a slow sweet suction of movement. He stopped at the bend of her elbow and kissed it gently making her breath hitch in her rapidly heaving chest.

Raising his head his eyes locked with hers. "More?"

She nodded "uh huh."

A sexy grin, one he practiced daily fell across Michael's lips…

(Sara)

Sara felt her heart pounding throughout. It had transcended from her pulse points to engulf her body in a steady thrum of arousal residing somewhere deep within her the moment Michael's lips touched her wrist.

His offer of, "more," had left her breathless. It was all she could manage to answer him and the small smile that greeted her acquiescence had torn through her hotly; weakening any resolve she may have had about taking things further. He was so good at this. Making her feel at ease, her nervousness abating as the heat grew within. He made her feel so beautiful, so desired…

He was moving towards her now only a breath away from capturing her lips. Moving forward she met him halfway, her lips parting with a new confidence to invite him in.

His lips were so soft in their abduction, so caring as if he were afraid he might upset her, but what she wanted was for him to devour her, to sear his lips with the heat she felt pounding through her veins.

The kiss grew, moving from a light intrusion upon her senses to full blown invasion, her growing boldness daring him as their tongues clashed hotly. Sara pulled his bottom lip into her mouth thinking she had never tasted anything so sweet. She was sure no candy stood a chance; at least none that had passed through her lips.

Hands once nervous moved over him seeking and then he was easing her back onto the bed, his body coming to rest lightly atop hers. Most of his weight was resting on his elbows, but she could still feel every inch of him.

Fingers finding shorn hair, Sara reveled in the feel of it soft against her palms. All the while her heart pounded hotly. She reveled in the heat such a small sensation could bring as it moved tingling throughout her awakening her further.

His lips had found her neck and was now leaving a trail of wet kisses along her collar bone making her shiver in his arms. "Do you want me to stop, Sara?" It was a whisper of softness against her ear.

Her answer was to pull him flush down onto her, her long legs slipping up around him in an embrace that brought them closer.

As if any more was needed to be said, "A little more Michael, just a little more."

He was nodding against her one moment and then his mouth was opening for her tongue. She never wanted for this to end.

His fingers traced over her body coming to land on the buttons of her blouse. A moment later the cool air hit her skin and then she could feel the soft material of his t-shirt, the intense heat of him beneath as he eased back down.

Fingers moving, she tugged on the offending shirt until he was easing back up to pull it over his head. Moments later his skin was hot against her beating heart, the only thing separating them her lacy bra.

Pulling his mouth back to hers, Sara wound arms and legs around Michael; her fingers digging into the muscles of his back in her need. She could barely breathe; each gulp of air eaten by his lips. She couldn't believe this was happening, but he was so real against her, beneath her eager fingers that were pulling at his pants.

"Do you have anything?"

What was he saying? "Hmm?" She mumbled her response against his neck.

"Protection, do you have something, the pill, anything?"

"No, I don't have anything, any protection I mean." She moved her body against him and sought his lips.

"Then we should stop Sara…we have to."

Her body was screaming no as the meaning of his suggestion came crashing in, but she knew he was right.

Kissing her gently, he pulled away.

Sara watched as Michael grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. As she watched him she knew the truth, that every part of her being ached for him, not just her body, but her heart and her soul.

As these emotions washed over her, Sara knew she was falling in love with Michael and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. 


	12. Chapter 12

(Michael)

Leaving the bedroom Michael closed the door quietly behind him. Sara had insisted he head out to the living room so she could finish dressing, but other then that small request she had seemed okay.

Still, Michael hoped Sara hadn't taken his refusal to take things any further the wrong way. He told himself his excuse was a valid one, condoms or a lack of in this case, having stopped things from going too far.

He had to admit he was surprised that Sara had let it get as far as she had, he had thought for sure she would pull away long before that. She had surprised him in other ways too, her boldness, her skills in the bedroom. He had to admit he was still feeling it. He told himself it was merely physical, reminding himself he was used to having sex several times a week and it had been a few days since he'd had any clients.

But any discomfort he was feeling would be worth it if this worked. If this helped Sara feel more comfortable around him.

Moving to the table Michael picked up his plate. The lasagna was still warm and he was starving. He glanced to the door contemplating whether he should wait for Sara or dive right in. Setting the plate back down, he walked to the sofa, plopped down and flipped on the TV. Surfing the channels he landed on a repeat of Lost.

Michael found himself wondering if Sara watched the show and then sat back to watch as Freckles and Sawyer yelled across at each other from their cages in the jungle.

Looking up he saw Sara standing there, a slight color in her cheeks as she handed him his plate of lasagna. He took it with a smile as she settled beside him with her own plate in hand. "I love Lost," she said softly.

They watched quietly, the lasagna disappearing quickly. They were both ravenous from their adventures in the bedroom.

When their plates were empty they set them aside and continued to watch. Only a few minutes had passed when Sara reached for his hand. Michael wrapped his fingers around hers telling himself this was good. Sara was making an effort and by the looks of it she had gained some confidence.

They continued to watch TV until Sara fell asleep. Flipping it off, Michael eased his hand from Sara's and stood up.

He looked down at her for a moment, feeling the warmth of her fingers fade from his now empty hand. A beat later he was scooping her up and carrying her to the bedroom where he deposited her on the bed.

Pulling the blankets over her gently, he then turned, grabbed his stack of blankets and headed back out to the sofa.

(Sara)

The sunlight through the window alerted her to a new day and Sara blinked against its glare. Why hadn't her alarm clock gone off? She squinted at the numbers and sighed. She wasn't late, her clock wasn't faulty. In fact it was rather early.

As she lay there the night came rushing forward to banish the dawn. Squeezing her eyes closed Sara replayed every moment, her clear mind reviewing what drunk Sara had accomplished. Accomplished might not be the right adjective.

Her eyes fell to the door, the rectangular wood that separated them. But there was more separating her from Michael then just this barrier and Sara knew it. While last night had been amazing, his touch, his lips…She knew this was just a job for him. She was just a job. Clear minded Sara knew this. Drunk Sara had imagined there was more.

But God, the way he had touched her! The way his mouth fit over hers, the heat in his eyes...Sara felt her cheeks flush at the memory of her thoughts as she watched him dress, the feeling that she was falling in love with Michael, and she thanked God now that she hadn't voiced them. Even if it was true, he couldn't know her feelings or he would run. And she didn't blame him. This wasn't what he had signed on for.

Sara had to wonder how many of his regular clients fancied they were in love with him. She knew she couldn't be alone. Thinking of his other clients, of Michael being with someone else made Sara feel hollow inside. She didn't want to think about it, she couldn't, not right now.

Pushing the blankets aside she stepped out of bed and made her way to the door. All was quiet in the apartment. Michael must still be asleep. Careful not to awaken him she sped quickly to the bathroom to begin getting ready for work.

XXXXX

Michael was still asleep when she exited the bedroom. Sara was ready to leave for work and a part of her was glad that she didn't have to face him until she returned home later that day.

Envelope in hand she moved to gaze down at him. The envelope held the three thousand dollars she had promised him and she was trying to decide the best way to give it to him. Leaving it was the best choice, or at least the easiest, but then it felt like she was paying him for services rendered the night before. But it was, wasn't it, just a job and this was his payment?

Sighing softly, she let the envelope fall from her hand onto the coffee table. Michael would find it there when he awakened and she would have made good on her earlier promise.

She had meant to give it to him last night but certain things had wiped her mind clear of obligation.

Cheeks heating up at the thought, she let her eyes move over him. His mouth was slightly open, and his full lips tempted her even in sleep.

Shaking herself lightly, Sara forced movement and headed to the door. A quick look back at his sleeping form and she headed out to start her day.

(Michael)

He spotted it immediately; the thick envelope lying flat against the deep wood of the coffee table. He could see the stack of bills peeking out of a loose corner and he knew what he should be feeling was relief; he could pay Angela's bills this morning as planned.

But what Michael should be feeling and the feelings that assaulted him were two different things. He was feeling a little bit of what, disappointment? Why? Sara had promised him a cash payment yesterday and she had delivered, albeit a little late but that was understandable due to the circumstances.

So why then did the sight of the money make him feel so strange? What was different about this? He was used to this, waking up to money on the night stand.

Some of his clients had a thing for fancy hotels and Michael had fallen asleep on many occasions only to awaken alone, but for the warmth of the almighty dollar, which was pretty damn cold if he thought about it. But then that was the way he liked it, wasn't it, doing his job with little emotion involved.

Maybe it was just the whole situation that was getting to him? There was nothing normal about this job that was for sure. That and the stress he was feeling lately, yes that must be it.

he started to sit up but a jarring pain hit him at his slight movement causing him to wince. "Damn Barbie doll sofa," he sent a hand up to cradle his neck.

His eyes fell on the envelope again and it got him moving despite the pain. He would take a quick shower to help work out the kinks and then have some coffee before heading to the facility to visit Angela.

Thinking of Angela had the desired affect, it sped his actions, it set him mind on what was important.

Michael was once again in Pro mode, as he grabbed up his duffel bag and headed into the bathroom.

(Sara)

"So how did it go? Tell all. Come on, don't leave anything out!" Amy was bustling with excitement and Sara had to wonder how her friend had managed to wait until she came into work. She was surprised Amy hadn't sent her cell phone buzzing at the first hint of the sun.

"It went…okay. The lasagna was a big hit. Michael thinks you're a great cook, Amy." Sara began to busy herself with the few books now on the counter in an effort to avoid Amy's eyes.

Amy was quiet for a beat as if digesting Sara's words and then, "What happened?" Amy could read her so well, almost as if she were a book, Sara mused sadly.

She sighed and turned to her friend. "I don't know, I mean we made out, but…"

"Oh my God, no way! You made out with Michael!?"

"Shh! Amy, please!" Sara looked around the store relieved to find it empty but for Amy and herself. "I did, we did, but it was just to make this work. Just so I would feel more comfortable with him, nothing more." After a beat, "The thing is I'm not so sure it worked." Sara let her hair fall over her face to hide her eyes from her overly observant friend.

"Hey, Sara don't do that, please? You know you can talk to me." Amy pleaded. She was on to Sara's game, Amy always knew when Sara was trying to hide something from her.

"I think maybe I'm falling for Michael, that I'm falling in love with him, Amy…And it's a mistake, it has to be, because I know he doesn't feel the same way…I'm just another client to him." This was said quietly, eyes still hidden behind a veil of copper.

Amy was quiet for a beat and then Sara felt the light pressure of Amy's hand on her arm.

Looking up Sara met her friend's concerned teal eyes. "Maybe he feels a little something too?"

Sara shook her head. I don't think so Amy, but its okay, I mean I'll live, right?"

Amy nodded and Sara knew her friend had taken the hint that she really didn't feel like talking just then, "Yeah, you'll be okay, Kid. You're a lot tougher then you think. And if you want to talk about it...You know I'm here for you, right?"

With this reassurance still ringing in her ears, Sara nodded and stepped from behind the counter.

She knew that just around the corner there was another shipment of books waiting to be unpacked. Most days Sara would dread this activity, but today she just wanted to keep busy.

(Michael)

The door swung shut behind him, pushing Michael forward and away from Angela, at least for a few more days. It never got easier walking out those doors. He hated leaving her, always had, but he hated it even more today.

She was what grounded him, Angela, she made him feel strong, like he could do this, live this lifestyle. Seeing her always reinforced his decision, and today was no exception, despite how fucked up his life had become.

Once out on the street Michael pulled the empty envelope from his pocket. Sara's neat, black script on white drew his eyes and he closed his fist around the word; 'Michael', the paper crumpling in his grip.

A few steps later, he spied a garbage receptacle and tossed it away, wishing he could toss things from his mind as easily.

The truth was despite his efforts, Michael had thought about Sara quite a bit that morning before his visit with Angela. He told himself he was just curious how she was doing, if she was okay, as he made his way back to his car and hopped in.

Starting the engine, he figured he would head back to Sara's apartment and straighten up, maybe pull his weight a little. After all he was staying there and that hadn't been part of the original deal, but then again neither had last night.

He felt something stir within him at the thought of her beneath him and pushed it aside. It was just sex or had nearly been anyways. It was good that they had stopped it when they had, but if they hadn't maybe he wouldn't be in this condition right now.

Loneliness he was used to, but this was an entirely new sensation altogether for Michael, he couldn't remember having felt horny in so long. Gigolos didn't get horny; they were too used to the game. They were too 'Used'.

Flipping on the radio, he tried to clear his mind. The song filled his head and he sat back in his seat letting the lyrics wash through him, hoping to wash away thoughts better left alone.

"A Ten Ton Brick is making me sick…Breaking my bones with the weight of it. Weight would grow with each new soul…Buried fine lies make big black holes and…Who am I supposed to be? Not like you give a fuck about me but…Who am I supposedly...When I'm finally done?"

Maybe this particular song was a bad choice...Sighing Michael reached for the knob and hit eject. The CD popped out to be replaced with a generic pop song he would normally avoid.

He left it there as the mindless lyrics lulled him and continued to drive.

(Lyrics To Ten ton Brick by Hurt) 


	13. Chapter 13

(For Gouloe () by request. Merry Christmas! And Happy Holidays to everyone! Thanks for reading!)

The key slid into the lock easily enough, if only opening the door were as simple.

Sara sighed and let her forehead come to rest against the cool, hard surface in front of her. What she wanted was to slip inside her apartment and head straight to her bedroom avoiding Michael altogether. She recalled now how tired she had looked; the dark circles beneath her eyes having leapt out at her from her reflection in the mirror at Amy and Dwayne's place. That was over two hours ago and she was even more exhausted now.

She had left the bathroom, rejoining her friends briefly before finally giving up, claiming fatigue. With a quick hug goodbye Sara had then headed out leaving the couple to finish up their never ending game of Monopoly alone, and they were probably happy to see her go.

Sara knew she couldn't have been very good company, her mind having been elsewhere the entire evening. Her mind had been on Michael and no matter how many times she tried to push him from her head, something would remind her and he would be right there in the forefront of her mind again, the growing feelings she could no longer deny an echoed remembrance of darkened blue eyes, of lips she imagined she could taste even now.

But Sara hadn't gone straight home. She couldn't. She wasn't ready to face Michael. Instead of heading back to the apartment, Sara had spent the next two hours wandering the quiet streets thinking, her feet taking her passed closed shop after closed shop with barely a glance into their brightly lit windows.

Her mind had been free then, free to think about Michael without interruption, free to think about the night that refused to let her mind rest, to come to a decision about her life, about everything.

Taking a deep breath, Sara turned the key.

Still uncertain if her decision was the right one, she pushed open the door.

Stepping inside the apartment, her eyes avoided Michael whose head turned away from the TV to greet her.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Her eyes still down, Sara's hair slipped over her face as she busied herself with the task of setting aside her handbag and removing her light jacket.

"I hope you don't mind that I straightened up? I figured since I'm here I should maybe help out a little."

Sara really hadn't noticed the state of the rooms. She had been too busy avoiding Michael. Glancing up from her discarded jacket, her eyes moved over the immaculate room only to land on Michael, his shirt unbuttoned, a wife beater visible beneath as he relaxed in a sexy sprawl.

God he looked amazing! She was suddenly feeling very shy, even more uncertain that she could do this. But then wasn't that why she was sending him away, to end this? Because of the affect he seemed to have on her? Because of the feelings that she felt for him, the intense attraction to someone who thought of her as a job to be done, as simply a means of income? And she knew so little about him really to be having these feelings, the feeling that she was falling in love with him. She had gone over this so many times during her long walk.

"It, it looks great in here. "She managed. "I'm not all that domestic, but then I'm sure you've noticed that. But you really didn't have to clean up, Michael…I mean I bet you're tired after work and...I mean…" Pressing her lips together Sara halted her words lest she embarrass herself further. Tired after work, Tancredi? God!

"It was no big deal, really. I don't mind."

Forcing herself to be calm, to be an adult instead of the unsteady school girl she always became around Michael, Sara moved to the sofa and sat down beside him. He slid over a little giving her some room and she was grateful. He was so close and now that she was sitting at his side she could detect the faintest scent of him.

Sara wasn't sure if Michael wore cologne or if this was just how he smelled, but it was a unique blend of soap and skin and something intangible that lit her senses and took her the few steps back in time to their moments in bed, the memory of entwined limbs and reddened lips hitching her breath. Maybe she should have done this, spoken with him from across the room.

Too late, she realized this now as he turned to her, his forehead etched with a seriousness she suddenly detected in his blue eyes as he studied her. "Listen, I ah, wasn't…I think there's something you should know, Sara. "A beat of silence later, "I wasn't completely truthful with you last night. I mean, about why I wanted to stay here. I kind of…I need to stay here, Sara. You see I'm in kind of a bind."

Her eyes fell to his thighs where his long fingers splayed, pressing into the worn denim as if this were difficult for him.

"I'd like to tell you a few things if you'll listen. I mean I think it's only fair that you know."

Sara nodded dumbly. She was speechless as she sat listening to his low and steady voice. She listened as Michael explained about Kelvin's arrest and his own nonexistent involvement. How he wasn't able to stay at his own apartment and why he had agreed to go to California with her; that he needed to get out of town, but it was only fair that he be honest with her about his situation since the police were involved.

"So you see cleaning up this place gave me something to do, since I have no clients, no job to speak of. I also made dinner if you're hungry." His voice trailed off to be met with silence, his eyes suddenly unreadable, but never so blue.

Was he finished?

Stunned at his words Sara stared at him for a few moments, the wheels in her head racing to take it all in. Michael was hiding from the police, why? If he was innocent why not just go to them, tell the police what he knew and that he was not involved?

There were so many questions rattling around in Sara's head. This was certainly not what she had expected from this night. She had thought she would be the one doing the talking, with Michael listening quietly.

She should be telling him now how it wasn't working out, how this would never work, that fooling her family was impossible, she should be telling him the rehearsed lie that she had constructed on her walk. She shouldn't be sitting here with a brand new reason to send him packing.

"Sara?"

Her eyes shot up, the confusion she was feeling, the conflicting feelings reflected in her coppery eyes.

He studied her for a moment intuitively, and then scraping a hand over his head he sat forward his eyes no longer on her, his voice having gone flat. "Do you want me to leave?"

When she didn't answer, Michael stood up and made his way to the corner of the room where he had left his duffel bag.

Without looking at her, he hefted the bag in one hand and moved to the door.

XXXXX

Sara had been ready to send Michael away, to tell her parents, her sister Katie, anyone who cared to listen that she would be making the trip to California alone, that she would be attending the wedding alone.

It would be easier to own up to her lies and end things now rather than later when her feelings for Michael were not only undeniable but strengthened from the false pretense of kisses meant for show and his touch on her skin that would last for days. Sara knew this.

She also knew that if she continued with this, if Michael stayed in her life she was sure to lose a piece of herself, a piece of her heart that would be captured forever, guarded by blue steel until she stopped breathing.

She knew all of this, and had made her decision, but the sight of Michael's straightened spine combined with his cold tone sent her into action. She couldn't let him go. She couldn't let him walk out of her life. Not like this.

"Wait! Michael, wait. I don't want you to go. I just…I don't know what to think and this is a lot to digest." Running a hand through her hair, Sara stood and approached him as he turned around. "I don't want you to leave," she repeated softly.

His cold eyes thawed some and she saw something pass through them that looked like relief. "Are you sure, Sara, because if you want me to leave, I'll go. I'll give you back the money when I can. I don't have it right now, but I will soon." He looked tired, almost as tired as she felt.

"I don't want you to go…I just don't understand why you haven't gone to the police, Michael, to explain your innocence."

It was as if a shade was drawn then, his eyes newly masked, "I have my reasons, but it has nothing to do my innocence or guilt in this." He tossed his bag down and stood facing her. "If I stay, if we do this you have to trust me. The only thing I'm guilty of is selling something that is rightfully mine to sell." His eyes were boring into her now, with conviction. "Do you trust me Sara?"

She nodded, "Yes, I trust you. I believe you, Michael, but it is illegal, prostitution is illegal in the state of Illinois." Sara wished she could rip the words out of the air and swallow them back down, but she had spoken them. Holding her breath she awaited his response.

A beat passed and then his eyes fell away. "Yeah, I'm aware of that. But just because I'm a whore it doesn't make me a liar too." His words dripped of anger and pain, sending her to his side

She reached to clasp his hand but he pulled back, moving away from her, her hand falling on dead air, his back now to her.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to imply that you were a whore, Michael, I…"

Sara wasn't sure how to fix this, but hearing Michael refer to himself as a whore, the pain in his voice hidden behind his anger had torn through her despite or maybe because of the truth in his words.

Until this moment Sara had assumed Michael wasn't bothered by his job. She felt shame at her guilt of buying into the stereo type that a man being paid for sex would be a dream job. She wished she could understand him, she wished she understood the reasoning behind Michael's career choice when he was so obviously not ok with it.

"Michael?"

He was still standing with his back to her, his hands on his hips.

He was quiet for a moment more, his voice flat, devoid of emotion when it finally came out. "It's ok. I'm used to it."

And then he was turning, masked blue avoiding concerned copper. "I'm going out for a while."

Grabbing his keys, Michael made his way to the door and then he was pulling it shut behind him.

XXXXX

Swirling brown liquid in a glass has never been therapeutic and tonight was no exception. It wasn't until the glass was empty and replaced with another, repeat until desired level of shit faced was attained, that the alcohol was of benefit to Michael's system. Not that he drank much, but when he did, he did it right.

Downing the whiskey in his glass he set it down with an audible bang drawing the bartender's eye. "Another?"

At Michael's nod the man poured another shot into his glass and moved away. Michael wasn't sure what had drawn him to this hole in the wall bar, there were certainly many establishments of higher quality to choose from in the area, but here he was, his sixth drink now fitted snuggly in his slightly unsteady hand.

But he knew why he was there really. He was there to drown out the sound of Sara's voice, to deaden his senses, to fog his memory. Why was he letting this get to him? Why did he even care what Sara thought of his lifestyle? What was she but just another trick, another client?

Michael downed his drink and again a bang filled the air as his hand set the glass in front of him. Seconds later the bartender was back, his shot of whiskey magically replaced.

He wasn't even sure why he had told Sara about Kelvin, about his problems in the first place. He should have known she wouldn't understand. How could she? She was so...Good.

The noise of crude laughter hit the air then and Michael's eyes moved from his magic glass to the bar's other patrons; some seated some standing. He traced the laugh to a big guy who was leaning close to a woman, a woman who was obviously for hire.

Michael's eyes fell away from the woman's tired features, her age difficult to gauge due to the low lighting. If he were to guess he would say she was in her mid to upper forties even though she looked quite a bit older. She'd led a tough life. She would understand.

He wondered briefly if the woman had an Angela, someone that made her job doable, someone who made her life worth while.

"To whores," Raising his glass he toasted loudly and then the liquid was burning its path down his throat.

"What did you say, Mate?"

Michael sought out the source of the words spoken and turned to the big guy whose hand was now curled into a fist at his side.

Michael's eyes moved away, instantly dismissing him.

"Who are you calling a whore?" The guy was refusing to be ignored.

"Myself, you, her, him, all of us are whores for one reason or another," Michael slurred slightly due to his fast consumption of alcohol.

The man was looking at him, studying him now. "Your Lincoln Burrows' little brother." This was a statement not a question.

Michael squinted at the guy thinking he looked slightly familiar. "Yeah, he's my brother." That said, he turned back to his empty glass.

"Bar keep! Give me mate another!"

"Thanks, man." Magic glass in hand Michael tipped it to his lips and downed the liquid.

"So how's your brother then, I ain't seen him around much these days, he still with that bird Sammie?"

Michael sighed and turned to the guy whose name still escaped him. "He's fine, actually. And yeah, he's still with Sam."

The man signaled the bartender again and the whiskey flowed. The last thing Michael remembered thinking was soon he would be feeling no pain. The rest of the night that followed was a total blur.

XXXXX

The pounding at the door awakened her and Sara's feet hit the floor. She was blinking her eyes against the light she had left on for Michael as she made her way through the living room to the door.

A peek out the peephole revealed blurred skin tone and then he stepped back from the door. Michael.

Sara hurriedly threw the locks and pulled open the door sending him rushing in at her. Michael had been leaning against it and her quick movements had thrown him off balance. Catching him in her arms Sara fought for her own balance, his much heavier frame having almost sent them both to the floor.

"Michael," a grunt of pain left her as his elbow hit her in the ribs, but she kept them both on their feet. He was drunk, and if his actions didn't speak loudly enough, the smell coming off him would be enough to convince her.

"Hey, Sara, pretty Sara…Sweet Sara…" He was slurring badly, she could barely make out his words. "Michael you have to help me, you're too heavy." He was leaning heavily against her but pulled away some to squint at her. "What?"

"You have to help me get you to the sofa, Michael."

His eyes cleared slightly and moved from her face to the sofa across the room. "Fucking Barbie doll sofa…I hate that thing…You need a new sofa, Sara…Bigger, like six, seven feet bigger. " His arms shot out to demonstrate the size and he almost knocked them both down.

"Okay, Michael, okay, come on." Leading him into the room and to the sofa, Sara pushed him down onto it.

Michael leaned into it immediately, his head lolling back against the pillows making Sara think he was out, but then he lifted his head. "I've seen bigger sofas in a Barbie dream house, you know?"

"Really?" Sara was removing his shoes as she spoke.

"Uh huh, huge sofa's in those things, comparatively."

"And you've seen lots of Barbie doll houses, then?"

"Oh, yeah, tons and tons, every little girl had one. Angela has one. She's saving it."

At this mention, at the slight change in his voice she knew Angela was someone special, maybe a sister? But wouldn't he have mentioned having a sister in their long Q&A? Again Sara was reminded that she still knew very little about Michael.

"Who's Angela?" She was lifting his legs to help him into a prone position.

He didn't respond right away and Sara thought he was truly out this time. She was grabbing a blanket when his heavy eyes opened a little and he attempted to focus on her. "Angela's an angel, Sara…Just like you."

His eyes dropped closed then, leaving her speechless.


	14. Chapter 14

"I thought you might need these," Sara's low voice followed by the sound of the small pills against the wood of the table when she set them down was loud, crashing through Michael's head.

This was possibly the worst hangover he had ever experienced. "Thanks," his own voice sent a jolt of pain behind his eyes and he winced, his stomach lurching. Not good.

He squinted up at her, thankful that Sara had dressed in earth tones today, no bright pink Strawberry shortcake pajamas to rock his retinas. Attempting to sit up, he braced himself for the expected nausea, but it didn't come.

"There's coffee if you want it. I have to go, or I'll be late for work."

Leaning back, he eyed the small pills before bringing his bleary eyes to her face. She looked tired and he wondered how much of a role he played in her obvious lack of sleep. He must have, what called her? Try as he might, Michael couldn't remember how he had gotten to her apartment.

"Sara, I…" He clenched his jaw against the pain in his head and reached for the pills and tall glass of water. Tipping his head back carefully, Michael washed the pills down and then met her inquisitive eyes. He wanted to apologize for leaving, for overreacting to her reaction to last night's confession, but somehow the words wouldn't come.

Telling himself it was a conversation best left for a time when his head wasn't threatening to explode, "Did I call you last night? To come get me, I mean?"

He saw her eyebrows rise a little as if in surprise, but then her quiet voice piped out. "No, you knocked on the door around 2am. I'm not sure how you got home, I mean here." She was wringing her hands, her eyes worried now. "I hope you didn't drive Michael. Drinking and driving…"

"I didn't, I wouldn't have, Sara." He cut her off reassuringly. He wouldn't have, would he? Michael reached again for a slice of memory that was just out of his grasp, but all he could remember was…Ben. Lincoln's friend had bought him a drink, no drinks, several drinks in fact. But then what?

Pulling himself up, Michael moved to the window to chance a look out at the street. A jolt of pain hit him at the brightness of the day, but he forced his eyes to remain open, to focus passed the bright grass that tore through his head and on to the curb. His normal parking spot was filled with a late model green van, not telling him much.

But he wouldn't have driven, he was sure of it. Even though alcohol had not played a role in the car accident that ruined Angela's life, their lives, Michael had become completely intolerant of anyone climbing behind the wheel while even slightly inebriated.

No, he would never have driven in the state he must have been in. And if his headache and lack of memory of the night's events was any indication, he must have really tied one on.

"A cab, Ben put me in a cab." Michael's sudden memory was sketchy at best, but it seemed real enough, and it made sense.

"Good, that's really good. If you like, I can drive you to pick up your car later?"

He turned from the window at her offer, careful to move slowly. So far his stomach was holding onto the ibuprofen he had swallowed and he wanted to keep it that way. "Yeah, that would be great, thanks, Sara."

Her eyes ducked away and then she was moving, gathering her handbag and keys. "I'll bring home dinner if that's okay?"

"Sounds good."

His eyes followed her to the door and then she was gone, the care she took in quietly shutting the door behind her not going unnoticed by Michael.

Staring at the solid wood for a moment, he searched his aching head for more of the previous night. Telling himself it would come, he slowly made his way into the kitchen to get some coffee.

XXXXX

Once outside the door, Sara leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She had awakened that morning, climbing out of bed feeling more confused then anything. On her way to the bathroom she had stopped, her eyes taking in his still form. As Sara stood staring at Michael's drunken slumber on her "Barbie doll sofa" her burgeoning feelings had surprised her. She was annoyed.

That annoyance had tapered off somewhat during her morning routine, but she was still plagued by questions, like who was Angela, and what role did she play in what Sara was beginning to think was a very complex life.

Michael was certainly more complex then she had ever imagined. And Sara wanted to understand him, she truly did, but just like the previous night, the answers wouldn't come.

After Michael left, Sara had spent a good deal of the night lying sleepless thinking about all that he had told her, Michael's story about Kelvin's arrest and his reaction to her questions. And then the way he had stalked out after her goof. She never should have said those things about prostitution being illegal…Sara wished even now that she could snatch her words from his mind and fix it…That she could erase his voice from her mind…Michael's hurt, angry words as he called himself a whore. This had played on her mind the most.

Finally after hours of tossing and thinking, she had drifted off to sleep only to be awakened by his pounding arrival at her door, an arrival that had brought with it even more questions to addle her brain.

Sara had intended to talk to Michael this morning, well she had intended to try anyways, but then he woke up, his lack of memory and obvious discomfort stilling her tongue, the questions dying before ever having touched her lips.

Her mind had suddenly flooded with apprehension as he focused the conversation on the mystery of how he came to be there, without a word about why he had left the apartment in the first place. His personal life was private, Sara knew this, guared by closed off eyes and unanswered questions. How could she even think to ask him about his romantic life? What right did she have to ask Michael anything of a personal nature when this was just a business deal?

It was still just business to him wasn't it? The only reason he had mentioned Kelvin was because he hadn't thought it right that she not know.

But Michael had called her an Angel. Did he think of her as an Angel? Did this mean he was starting to have real feelings for her?

Of course he had been pretty drunk, more drunk then Sara could remember ever having seen anyone. Not that she was a good judge, but Amy did like her Fruity, froo froo drinks and her friend had been known to get pretty silly on their monthly "drink night".

Besides, she reminded herself now, Michael had called them both an angel, herself and Angela. God, who was Angela! She was so confused! She had to stop thinking about this.

Sara had used the small lie that she would be late for work as an excuse to escape, but she really would be if she didn't get a move on.

Scraping a hand through her hair, Sara opened her eyes and forced herself to move along the hall and out of the building.

(Authors note: Sorry so short, but the holidays and my son's winter break from school have kept me busy. More soon i hope.)


	15. Chapter 15

Sara's eyes shifted to the door as the bell rang. Despite her fatigue a small smile played across her tired features at the sight that greeted her. Mrs. P's sunny persona was hard to resist even today. Sara had been ignoring her duties at the counter and thinking about Michael, again. In truth she had thought of little else and all of Amy's questions had only added fuel to an inextinguishable fire.

"Mrs. P, how's my favorite customer today? Let me guess, you're here for the new James Patterson?" Sara's smile deepened as she brought the book out from behind the counter. With her jumbled thoughts and lack of sleep she was surprised she had remembered her promise to set one aside for Mrs. P.

"You know me so well, Sara." The older woman's smile lit the room as her fingers, age defying in their youthful beauty reached for the volume and patted it.

Sara had once teased that Mrs. P was a hand model and the blushing woman had confessed she indeed once had been. In fact she had once modeled rings for a Detroit based company, Traub. They made the loveliest wedding and engagement rings under the name Orange Blossom, back in the day.

Back in the day, that was how Mrs. P liked to refer to her youth. Sara loved when Mrs. P talked about her girlhood, back in the day. Some of the stories were so romantic. Sara felt a sigh escape her…If only her own story could turn out half as lovely as Mrs. P's…

Sara remembered the slow day in the shop shortly after engineer Michael had proposed to her. Mrs. P had shared her story that day of how Mr. P proposed to her.

Another sigh left her at the memory and Mrs. P caught it. "Are you alright, my dear? You seem a bit…melancholy?"

Shaking her head, Sara pasted on a smile, "I'm okay, just having a bit of a bad day." Sara hated that Mrs. P had picked up on her mood. A borrowed melancholy, how sad she was that she had to borrow a memory! But really, she hadn't been herself all day, and Sara knew it. She wondered if any of their other 'regulars' had noticed that something about her mood was off?

Business had been quite good that morning, what with the flock of customers, tons of regulars coming in for James Patterson's latest.

"Let me ring that up for you," Sara reached for the book and scanned it. She really didn't want to go into how screwed up her life was with Mrs. P. She had already been over it with Amy and was still confused by Michael's words and actions.

"You know how my lovely Albert proposed, Sara, but did I ever tell you how we met, how he won my heart?"

Holding back a sigh, Sara shook her head. "I don't think so, Mrs. P."

From the look in the older woman's faded blue eyes, Sara knew this was a tale she held dear, a memory that kept her deceased husband alive, if only in her heart.

"I had just moved into an apartment on Fifth Street, Sara. There was load upon loads of stuff sitting in the hall waiting for me to carry it all in, but not much energy to muster up. And I was all of twenty-one!" Sara smiled along with her friend as she relived the day through the musical notes that filled her voice, of a love that lived on despite a tragic separation. "Albert lived in that very same building, Sara. He carried every box, every stick of furniture in for me that day and all for the price of my company and a cup of tea. I should have known I was doomed then and there to fall in love with him. Smooth is what he was. And was he ever handsome! But I was seeing someone, a really nice fellow and well…I was a silly girl and I thought this other man was the one. But Albert was the one and before long I realized it." Mrs. P had a faraway look on her face and Sara herself felt as if she was almost there as she awaited Mrs. P's next words.

But the older woman shook herself, a smile of mischief claiming her features. "You know Sara, there is a perfectly wonderful young man living in my building. He has such lovely blue eyes... I would love to, how do you kids say it, hook the two of you up?" Sara felt her face redden as she dipped her head low allowing the brighter shade of her hair to conceal her embarrassment at this proposal.

"He's lived there for well over two years and I've not seen him bring anyone home, not once."

Sara was still looking at the book she held in her hand, avoiding the faded blue that was now sparkling with merriment. Mrs. P was trying to fix her up, now? Was there no end to what had to be one of the worst days ever?

"What do you say, sweetie? I don't think he is gay if that's what you're thinking. My gay alert didn't go off at all."

"Gaydar, I think you mean gaydar?" Sara's face came up and she shook her head. "No, thank you, Mrs. P, really but…I really don't think…I mean I appreciate the offer, but set ups rarely work out for me."

Mrs. P reached to pat her hand. "Well if you change your mind, dear, you'll let me know?"

Again Sara nodded, "I sure will, Mrs. P." Sara slid the book into a bright blue bag and ran Mrs. P's credit card through trying not to think of another piece of plastic very much like this one, only with Michael J. Scofield emblazoned on it.

Despite her efforts, the day Michael had come back to the store to retreive his lost credit card once again played through her mind. It seemed like so long ago, but it wasn't, not really. Had it only been a few days?

Pushing him from her mind, Sara smiled and handed Mrs. P back her card. "There you go, Mrs. P."

It was only noon and Sara was wondering for about the tenth time now how she would manage to make it through the day.

XXXXX

Michael stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around his long, lean frame. He felt the steam condensate on his damp skin almost instantly and pulled the door open before he started to sweat. Sara's bath fan was broken and the small bathroom was like a sauna after a shower.

The air from the hall rushed in at him, and Michael sighed, its cool fingers feeling good on his over heated musculature. He scraped a hand over his unshaven cheek and winced. His neck was still sore from the previous night's sleep on the small sofa, but his headache had finally left him and for this he was grateful.

Glancing at his watch Michael moved through the quiet living room, his eyes falling almost instantly on the cell phone that rested on the table. Lincoln had called earlier and Michael had promised himself as soon as his head wasn't rocking to a hidden beat he would attempt to call his brother back.

Sighing, now, he plopped down and scooped up his phone to make good on his promise. He had once, maybe twice had a client ask him what he was wearing during a phone call, but he figured calling Lincoln in only a towel was safe enough.

Of course Sara could come home, but he wasn't expecting her, not this early. A smile hit his lips as he remembered her embarrassment at having seen him in only a towel, but then the smile fell away. Michael wasn't sure this was working out, his staying there. After last night and the awkward morning that followed, he wasn't sure about this job at all.

Pushing a button, he pushed Sara from his mind and pulled up his brother's number. He just wanted to get this over with. The sound of ringing soon filled Michael's ear as he waited for Linc to pick up. One ring, two, three…Michael was beginning to think his brother wouldn't answer when Lincoln's breathless voice interrupted mid ring. "Mike, hey."

Michael couldn't help but think that Sammie had something to do with his brother's winded state, but Linc's next words wiped the thought clear of his mind. "Why haven't you called me back? You gotta know how worried I've been, man."

Leaning his head back under the weight of his guilt, Michael pushed back against the sofa, tension in his sore neck, eyes going closed as he readied himself for the fight he sensed brewing. "I'm sorry, Linc, I just…I needed some time to cool off. I didn't mean to worry anyone." And he truly hadn't, but his brother seemed to bring out the rebellious teenager inside of him, one he should have outgrown years ago.

"Where are you staying, Mike. I tried your place and that old lady, Mrs. P; she said she hasn't seen you in a few days."

Michael's eyes opened as his hand came up to cup his head against the sudden ache that was once again pounding at his temples. "I'm not at my place right now, Linc."

"So, where are you?" At his brother's reluctant pause," I just wanna see you, man. I could stop by and hang for a few. We could talk…"

A beat of silence later, as if reading Michael's mind, "Mike I swear, there won't be another fight."

Sighing softly, Michael grabbed a piece of mail off the table and read off Sara's address.

Lincoln repeated it back to him and then he went quiet.

"So why aren't you here already?" Michael broke the silence, a grin tugging at his lips.

"I'll be there, yesterday man..." The two brothers laughed together and then Michael was flipping closed his phone.

He sure hoped his brother was true to his word. The last thing he needed today was to go round two with Linc the sinc.

XXXXX

Maybe fifteen minutes had passed since he ended the call to Lincoln. Michael had then dressed quickly, throwing on a t-shirt and jeans before heading into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. The remaining minutes were spent thinking about how this meeting with his brother would play out. It could be round two of a never ending battle. But maybe it would go well?

Michael was still trying to convince himself of this when the sound of a firm knock sent his long legs moving, and then he was in front of the door.

"Well, here's hoping," he said silently to himself as his hand moved to throw the locks. A moment later Michael was looking into relieved blue eyes. It was only upon seeing Linc, that Michael realized the extent of his brother's worry.

"Linc, come on in." His arm fell away from the door allowing it to swing inward and Lincoln was moving into the apartment. "I brought pie, Sam's idea," Linc said and Michael noticed the whipped cream covered top and smiled.

"Looks great. I knew I liked Sammie."

Lincoln grinned at this and set the pie onto the table. "Yeah, she's amazing…Likes her whipped cream too." Linc eyed the pie. "Not that I'm complaining…"

"I bet not. Hey, I have a pot of coffee brewing. Grab the pie and we'll slice into it." Michael was already heading for the kitchen.

He turned around as Linc set the pie down. "You still take cream, right?" He was pouring the coffee into huge mugs as Lincoln pulled open a drawer.

"Yep, cream's fine."

"The one on the right," Michael directed as Lincoln pulled open another drawer in his search for the flatware.

The silence behind him alerted Michael that his brother's eyes were on him, and no longer on the contents of the drawer. Preparing himself, Michael turned around.

"Whose place is this Michael? I mean you seem to know your way around pretty well."

Michael felt his defenses going up a little as he cautiously answered, "A client. Well, not really a client, client." Sighing, Michael grabbed the mugs and moved to the table where he motioned for Lincoln to have a seat across from him. He figured this would seal it.

Telling Lincoln about his deal with Sara would either throw them into the fight Michael had pretty much anticipated or his brother would surprise him and handle his news well.

Taking a deep breath Michael began to speak...

XXXXX

He let out his breath, his eyes never leaving Lincoln's face. So far to Michael's both equal parts relief and surprise his brother hadn't uttered a word. Linc had just sat back and let him talk.

But now the silence was making Michael nervous. He could practically see the wheels in Linc's head smoking as he processed all that he had told him. And he needed his brother to handle this well. As Michael spoke, telling Lincoln everything, he realized that his brother's cooperation was not only important, but essential if he were to do this. If he was to leave for two weeks, he would need someone to look after Angela, to visit her, making sure she was okay. Otherwise his guilt at leaving her would eat him up inside.

Michael watched as Linc got up and sliced the pie. He still hadn't said anything and Michael wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing, this show of domesticity. It was obvious that Linc was stalling, but why? So he wouldn't say something he would later regret?

"Linc…"

A piece of pie landed in front of him, the fork clattering to the table the only sound in the quiet room. Michael's eyes left the shining silver to see his brother forking in a huge bite of pie before washing it down with a gulp of coffee.

A beat later, "Is she nice, Sara?"

Michael froze in surprise at this. "Yeah, she's…She's really nice…I mean, not that it matters, but yeah." He plunged his fork into the whipped cream, sinking with little effort through the chocolate filling before hitting the plate beneath the graham cracker crust. He shoveled in a bite and grabbed his coffee. This was possibly the most bizarre, yet civilized conversation he'd had with his brother in a long while.

"Good. I mean two weeks on top of you staying here. I'm glad she's nice."

What was Linc not saying here? Michael had a feeling his brother was holding something back, but what?

"Yeah, I guess it is a good thing. We get along pretty well. I mean, she's kinda shy and…" He felt his brother's eyes on him and looked up from his pie.

"Mike she knows about Angela, doesn't she? I mean she doesn't think there's more to this then what it is? It's just a job to you, right?"

And there it was. Linc was what, worried that he was getting in over his head, leading Sara on? "I think she knows it's just a job." Michael said avoiding the mention of Angela. Angela was his business. He had never told a client about Angela, why should Sara be any different?

"Good, that's good. I mean unless there's something more to it. And if there is, you know…"

"There isn't. In fact I was thinking about finding another place to crash until we leave for California." Linc's eyebrows shot up at this but he didn't say a word. Michael wasn't sure he liked this new, quieter side of his brother. He was used to the brother who spoke his mind, said what he was thinking even if it was none of his business, his words sure to cause a fight.

"You think I could stay at your place for a few days, man?" Michael's voice was low. And he guessed he should just be happy things were going this well. But for some reason he wasn't.

Linc was studying him again. A beat later he nodded. "Yeah, I mean if that's what you want…You know it."

Nodding, Michael forked up another bite of pie and popped it into his mouth.

"Yeah, it is, it's what I want. I'll tell Sara tonight."

XXXXX

Dinner was Chinese take out, and wine picked up on the way back from retrieving Michael's car from the bar parking lot where he had left it the night before. Sara had called earlier from work suggesting they do it that way instead of her bringing dinner home as they had planned.

Both ravenous, they had left the takeout place and headed straight back to the apartment to dive right in.

Michael's eyes fell now on the mostly empty, white cartons deserted on the coffee table where he and Sara had left them after a quiet meal in front of the television. Michael was beginning to think this was how Sara ate all of her meals, with her eyes trained on the screen, a glass of red wine in her hand.

He chanced a look her way, the flickering screen unable to hide the tell tale signs. Sara looked tired, even more so than she had that morning and Michael knew he was to blame.

He blamed himself for last night. He never should have gotten so upset...Or maybe he just never should have mentioned any of his problems in the first place...

Things would be better, he told himself now, things would get easier after he left. He needed to distance himself. It had taken his conversation with Linc to make him realize this. Michael had let all of the signs slip passed him, chalking most of it up to Sara's shyness, her nervousness with him being just an example. How could he have missed it? The worry in her tone that morning, the way she looked at him?

Sure, he had always been aware of Sara's physical attraction to him. If he hadn't, it would have been made pretty clear from their time together in her bedroom. He wanted to kick himself for that one. Here he was trying to help her feel more comfortable and now Sara was falling for him.

As he watched, her slim hand came up to stifle a yawn, her coppery eyes blinking heavily. Michael had intended to talk to Sara tonight, to not only apologize for the night before but to tell her of his plans to stay at Lincoln's, but she had been so quiet, her usual nervous rambling replaced by silence...Maybe he was wrong? Maybe she wasn't falling for him. Maybe she was just pissed. Whatever the case may be, he knew he should wait. He could just as easily tell Sara in the morning before she left for work. Of course that meant one more night on her horribly small sofa…

A loud noise from the TV drew his eyes, but Michael really had no clue what was going on. He watched as a man pulled a gun and forced another man into the back of a car using brute force, the gun slamming into skull bone with a crack.

Wincing, he let his eyes move back to Sara. Her eyes were closed against the brutality on the screen and it took Michael a moment before he realized she was actually sleeping.

XXXXX

Flipping off the TV, Michael then leaned and scooped her up, her arms instantly moving up to wrap around him as her head came to rest against his shoulder. She weighed practically nothing and he wondered how she managed it. Sara wasn't like some women, the ones who barely ate enough to keep a goldfish alive, and always ordered salads.

Michael realized he was just standing there holding her and made himself move, carrying her to the bedroom.

A moment later he was lowering her to the bed. Her eyes flickered open mere inches from his own. "Michael?"

"Yeah, it's me, Sara. You fell asleep on the sofa."

"Mm, the Barbie doll sofa…" She mumbled as her heavy lashes fell shut again. She let go of him and curled up into herself on the large bed. "You could sleep here…I mean if it's so bad?" Her eyes opened a little and met his only to drift shut as he did a mental count of the refills to her wine glass.

The bottle was empty, and intending to drive to Lincoln's later that night Michael had only allowed himself one glass.

Declining her offer, Michael pulled the blanket over her now sleeping form.

Convinced he was doing the right thing, Michael shut off the light and made his way back to the living room, in search of some paper and a pen.

XXXXX

The room was too bright, and while Sara's curtains didn't dispel all of the sun's rays on an average spring morning, today it hurt to even crack open an eye lid.

Vowing to never drink wine again, Sara turned her head, burying her face in the softness of her pillow. Today was her day off, so at least there was that to be thankful for.

God, why did she drink so much wine? The night had been moving at a quiet snail's pace, and Sara had been pretty uncomfortable with Michael, wondering when or if he would even mention the night before.

But who was she trying to kid, she knew the real reason she had kept topping off her wine at dinner. Sara knew it was courage she was seeking in the bottom of her glass, the courage to ask Michael who Angela was and why he had compared the two of them.

These questions were driving her crazy, even if it was none of her business, and it most likely wasn't. But unlike the first time Sara got drunk around Michael, this time she had just gotten sleepy, the long day and little sleep finally having caught up with her. So, now here she was, fairly certain she hadn't found the courage to ask him anything, and by the looks of her slept in clothes he had merely carried her to bed after she passed out on the sofa.

Clutching her head, Sara made her way out of bed to a standing position, her toes sinking into the plush carpeting as she gained her balance. Once she was steady on her feet, she moved to the door and opened it. She was hoping Michael was still asleep; that she could slip passed him to the bathroom unnoticed. "Here's hoping," she said silently to herself and began moving quickly through the hall.

Her peripheral vision caught the lone sofa and she stopped in her tracks and turned. The sofa was empty, no blankets, no pillows, no Michael. And the coffee table which had been strewn with takeout boxes and wine glasses was now cleared but for a single sheet of white note paper.

XXXXX

Sara folded the paper and calmly set it aside, her mind anything but as it sped over the jumble of words and emotions she was trying to make sense of.

Michael was going to his brother's place? Why? Had she said something stupid again, something to anger him? Or maybe she had mentioned Angela last night?

Try as she might, Sara couldn't remember saying anything to Michael. And she would remember something like that, wouldn't she? Maybe he was still upset about the previous night and the things that were said? But if he was that upset would he be coming back at all? Why hadn't he just talked to her about it?

Michael's note said he would be back in a few days giving them plenty of time to prepare for the trip to California. But they would be leaving in six days and if he was gone for three of those days, that only left them with three days to prepare.

Sara wrung her hands as her insides twisted at the thought. Oh, God she was going to be sick!

Speeding to the bathroom, barely making it in time, she leaned over, giving her offerings to the porcelain God.

When she there was nothing left in her stomach, Sara leaned back against the side of the bathtub and closed her eyes, wishing she could awaken from the nightmare that was her life. 


	16. Chapter 16

(Two days later)

"Have you heard from him yet?" Amy didn't have to be specific; Sara knew who the 'him' in question was, Michael.

Shaking her head, "No, but he said a few days so…" Looking up Sara met her friend's blazing teal eyes. She had seen that look in Amy's eyes before and Hell hath no fury.

"It's ok, Amy, really. So he needed some time off work, that's all. He'll come back. He needs the money." It hurt Sara to say this, but it was the truth and she knew it. Like she had suspected, she was just a job to Michael. If his leaving had accomplished nothing else, at least it had convinced her of this fact. She was nothing to him.

But sometimes the truth hurt…

Sighing, Sara reached to the small calendar on the counter and ripped May's page away officially ending the month as the bright flower depicting the month of June leapt out at her.

Her eyes fell first on the fourth day of the month, the day they were to leave for California. But then they moved back two spaces to the second day of June, tomorrow's date, Michael's Birthday. Birthdates was only one of many things the two had shared in their Q&A and foolishly Sara had filed it away in her memory.

Pushing the calendar back into place, she met her friend's inquisitive eyes. "I could have Dwayne kick his ass."

Sara laughed loudly at this and Amy grinned. The idea of Dwayne kicking anyone's ass was highly humorous.

"What, you don't think my boy could take him?"

Sara was holding her sides at the mental images Amy was drawing up. "Stop, I can't breathe!" Sara finally caught her breath, "Ames?"

"Hmm?" Amy's blonde head turned and teal struck copper.

"Thanks for being there for me…For always being there when I need you."

Sara saw her friend's eyes well up just seconds before her own tears tipped and fell down her cheeks. "Come 'ere, kid." Amy's arms went around her and held her close. "I'll always be here for you, you know that."

"Uh huh," Sara nodded and squeezed her eyes closed.

She had a feeling if June fourth came around and Michael was still MIA she would need Amy more then ever.

XXXXX

Apparently size didn't matter, at least not where sleeping on crappy sofas was concerned. Michael's neck protested as he eased up into a sitting position on the "brown corduroy hell" that was his brother's sofa.

God, how he missed his bed!

His blue eyes took in movement in the room, coming to rest on Sammie in her pink, checked Miss Piggy night shirt and he was reminded instantly of Sara's Strawberry Shortcake pajamas. He pushed the image from his head as he had with every other thing that had reminded him of Sara over the last two days, not that there had been many, but he would be lying to himself if he was to say he hadn't thought about Sara at all. He told himself it was only because he had seen so much of her, it was only natural he should think about her, to wonder how she was doing. He knew all he had to do was pick up the phone and call her, but he also knew he needed to be professional about this, to treat her like any other client, lest she get the wrong idea.

"Sorry, you were still asleep and I thought I could sneak passed." Sammie had one hand behind her back and Michael wondered why she even bothered. He had heard the unmistakable sounds of an aerosol can the last two nights. He knew exactly what was hidden behind her back. The noise coming from Linc's bedroom combined with the ridiculous amount of Reddi-whip in the house was a dead giveaway.

"No problem," Michael said averting his eyes from Sam's shapely legs.

A smile later, Sam was on her way back to Linc's room.

Sighing softly Michael leaned back on the couch. Living with his brother the last two days had been tough, reminding him of what he was missing, and sex was only a small part of it. He felt an ache of loneliness and squeezed his eyes closed in regret. He doubted he would ever have that again, the closeness he saw between his brother and Sam.

Scraping a hand across his shorn head, Michael forced himself up and moving. A quick shower and he would be off to visit Angela.

He refused to think about the fact that he could still see those Strawberry Shortcake pajamas in his mind's eye.

XXXXX

Her fingers trailed over the package she had wrapped days ago. In fact the very day after she learned of Michael's impending Birthday Sara had known the perfect gift for him. And it was something she already owned.

Tossing it onto the table, Sara told herself Michael probably wasn't even going to show up today. Here it was her day off and she was sitting around her apartment waiting. Did she never learn? But truthfully she had no plans anyway. Amy was minding the store and unless she wanted to hang out at work she was companionless.

A knock sent her eyes to the door and then she was jumping up, her heart racing along with her feet as she sped to the door. Not bothering to look out the peephole, Sara threw the locks and pulled the heavy wood inward, her eyes landing on Michael. She was mad at him for about five seconds and then she was just happy to see him. And not because she would be out three grand if he had disappeared on her.

"Michael," her voice sounded breathy, desperate even to her own ears.

"Hey, Sara," He sounded so good.

A little better, stronger and with less desperation, "How have you been?"

"Okay, I've been okay, how about you?"

Had he really just asked her that? "I've been great. Busy," she lied.

"Come on in." Pulling the door wide, Sara stepped aside. She turned her head and her eyes landed on the wrapped gift she had forgotten to put away. Her eyes shot to Michael as his blue eyes left the gaily wrapped package and landed on her face.

"It's for you. I remembered that you said it was your Birthday today and I…Here." She grabbed the present and practically shoved it at him.

"Ah, thanks."

Sara watched as his long fingers carefully tore away the paper and ribbons. And then he was flipping over the book.

"You probably already have that one, it's old, but if you look inside, it has Crichton's autograph." She sounded nervous and Sara made herself count to ten mentally in her head, as Michael continued to stare at the book as if he hadn't heard her.

He didn't like it. He probably thought it was a stupid gift. Sara wished she had never brought it out of her sweater drawer that morning. To her relief he finally flipped it open, his eyes moving over the autograph within.

"I know it says to 'Sara' but whiteout would have diminished its value," she explained to the silence. Why didn't he say something? Shove the book back at her, anything but this.

"It's…It's great. I do have it, but…Thank you, Sara." He flipped it closed and his eyes met hers for a brief moment before falling away. "I can't stay, Sara. I just wanted to stop by for a minute so you didn't think I had run off with your cash." The forced joke fell awkwardly from his lips.

"Ha, ha," she voiced and Sara couldn't help but wonder if it came out as sarcastic as it had sounded in her head.

His eyebrows rose a little. "I have plans, Birthday stuff with my brother and his girlfriend, Sammie." A beat later, "You could come if you like. I mean it's just dinner and cake, but it is a social setting. It would be good practice for when we're in California."

"Yeah, it...it would be. Okay. Is it casual or dressy?" Sara was mentally raping her closets as she spoke. He was inviting her to his Birthday dinner? She reminded herself it was just practice and forced herself to remain calm.

"Your fine the way you are. I'm not changing, and my brother, Linc, he's a jeans and t-shirts kinda guy."

At Sara's hesitation, "Come on, so we're not late."

XXXXX

The book; upon flipping it over, seeing the title, Michael's insides had frozen, his heart beat seeming to still in his breath free chest as the memories washed over him taking him back to the first time he had seen it.

The small book mark sticking out, marking Angela's place as he pulled it from her bedside drawer. 'Travels', the title seemed to taunt him; reminding him Angela would most likely never travel anywhere ever again.

Stomach souring at the thought, Michael had been tempted to shove it back into the drawer, but she was enjoying reading it, he knew this. Angela had spoken of it a day or so before the accident. And Michael knew she was hinting that he himself should read it, even though she knew he wasn't really into reading. But he did enjoy the movies based on the many novels Crichton had penned and he and Angela had seen them all, popcorn salted fingers laced together on his sofa.

The sight of the book, still partially covered in bright blue and green gift wrap had brought all of this back to him. But there was no way Sara could have known. She thought he was the Crichton fan.

And Michael had read the book. He hadn't shoved it back into the drawer. He had taken it with him. He had brought it with him, to the facility that same day, and starting from the beginning, he began reading it to her. Her blank eyes hadn't changed as the words fell from his lips. Still he read on, with only a slight pause as the bookmark fell from the pages marking where she had left off.

A lump had formed in his throat halting his words. Angela should have continued from here. Her eyes should have eaten over the text, her beautiful mind enthralled by what would happen next…

He had forced the memories down, Sara was staring at him; he could feel her coppery eyes. She was waiting for his reaction to her gift and all he could manage was to agree with her that yes, he already had the book, but the signed copy was great.

The moment the words left his lips he wished to swipe them back, to erase the look on her face, but it was too late. Sara was only trying to please him, to give him a gift for his Birthday and this was his thank you? Before he knew it he was inviting her to his brother's for dinner. And the excitement in her eyes had almost made him feel better, almost.

Now here they were in the car and Sara was quiet, too quiet. "Is something wrong?" Dreading her answer, he turned to take in the side of her face.

She turned to him and his eyes fell into burnt copper, the sunlight seeming to light her worried eyes from within. "They know, right? I mean they know about me, your brother and his girlfriend, that I'm a client?"

This was something Michael hadn't thought of, but he could see where she might feel uncomfortable. "Yeah, I guess, but my brother and Sam are cool. I mean they won't say anything. They'll be too amazed that I actually showed up to even wonder about you." He joked trying to erase the worry from her eyes.

Silence met his efforts and then, "I don't know, Michael. I don't know if I can do this." Sara was wringing her hands.

Reaching over he gently eased her fingers apart. "It's going to be fine Sara. You can do this. We can do this." Squeezing her hand, he let it go his eyes never leaving hers. She nodded but he could see she wasn't convinced.

As the light turned green, Michael pulled his eyes away and headed through the intersection.

Moments later he was pulling into the parking lot at Linc's place and shutting off the engine.

XXXXX

How was she going to do this? Michael seemed certain she was strong enough, but Sara wasn't so sure. In fact she was almost positive that once his brother laid knowing eyes upon her she would turn and run.

When Michael asked her to do this, to go to his Birthday dinner with him, it hadn't occurred to Sara that his family might know about her, about California, but as they drove along her mind had stumbled onto the thought and wouldn't let it go.

Now that her fears were confirmed they were rooted deeper then ever. She couldn't go through with this!

The silence in the car was growing, the jangle of the keys having fallen silent where they had ceased their swinging motion from the ignition, making her pounding heart seem all the more loud to her ears. He was waiting for her to say something, to do something and she knew this.

Just tell him to take you home! The thought screamed and it was on her lips to insist that he do just that, but she hesitated. If Michael had to take her home it would make him late, she reasoned. But the truth was? Sara was afraid. Afraid that the next time Michael left it would be for good.

"Okay, let's do this," her shaky fingers landed on the door handle and with a silent pull she was pushing the door open and stepping out onto the cracked cement.

A moment later Michael was beside her, "Sara…"

Her eyes met his. "I'm okay, its fine. I mean if I can't do this then California is definitely not going to happen. Besides you're right, this could be great practice," she explained with a forced smile.

"Okay if you're sure…"

Nodding, "Absolutely, let's do this."

Never more unsure of something in her life, Sara followed Michael up the walk to his brother's apartment door and stood quietly as his knock announced their arrival.

XXXXX

Michael saw surprise register on his brother's face when he pulled open the door and then Lincoln was smiling. "Hey, come on in. I was about to throw some steaks on the grill."

Michael followed Linc into the room with Sara close on his heels, despite the hesitation he knew she must be feeling.

Catching his brother's eyes, "Linc, this is Sara, Sara this is my brother Lincoln."

Linc's smile turned to Sara, "Hey it's good to meet you, Sara. How do like your steak?"

His question right off the bat like that surprised her, "Um, medium well?"

"Sam! We've got company! Get your sweet ass in here!"

Michael saw Sara jump at his brother's loud voice and gave her a reassuring look.

Just then Sammie came in from the outside patio, her grin widening as she took in Sara's presence. "You brought someone." Sam grabbed Sara's hand and led her swiftly to the patio door. Sara cast one desperate look back at him and then he heard Sam's voice, "I'm Sammie, by the way."

Sara's response, if given was now behind the closed patio doors.

"Come on, man, help me with the steaks?"

Michael's attention shifted to his brother's retreating back. "Yeah, sure." With a quick glance at the patio doors, he turned and followed Lincoln into the kitchen.

XXXXX

"So, say it. Go ahead, Linc, say what you're thinking." Michael watched as Lincoln flipped first on steak and then another, the sizzling meat on the hot grill his only response.

A beat later, "Who says I'm thinking anything, man. So you brought Sara… She's hot by the way." Lincoln's eyebrows shot up in emphasis.

At the look Michael gave him, "What? I'm just sayin'."

Michael knew what his brother was just saying. Shaking his head he turned his gaze to the two women seated at the patio table. He heard Sara giggle as she brought her Margarita up to her lips. She seemed to be having an ok time, relaxing and talking with Sam.

Michael was glad and more then a little relieved that Sammie had taken Sara under her wing. But he had to wonder how many drinks she had consumed. Michael himself had stuck to the one beer he was content to nurse. After all someone had to drive them back to Sara's place later that night.

Approaching them now he could barely make out Sam's words. "It's all about the tongue." Had he heard Sammie correctly? Dismissing it, figuring he had to be wrong, Michael plopped down in the empty seat between Sara and Sam. "Hey," Sara's smile was tipsy, friendly.

"Hey, yourself. Having fun?"

"Mm hmm…Sammie was just sharing some of her Nan's recipes with me." Sara said and began sipping at her drink.

"Oh, yeah, any of those recipes require whipped cream, Sam?" Michael's eyes held a teasing gleam.

"Maybe," Sammie giggled and sipped her own drink.

"Oh , I love whipped cream!" Sara said having no clue what the joke was.

"Bless, a girl after my own heart," Sammie came back with.

"Sam, can you help me with this?" Linc called out interrupting them. Sammie jumped up. "Be right back."

"Now I'm craving whipped cream. What?" Why was Michael laughing at her?

"Am I missing something here?"

Nodding, he jumped up. "Come on, I wanna show you something."

Setting her drink on the table, Sara hopped up and followed Michael into the apartment.

XXXXX

Sara had no idea what Michael could possibly want to show her in the kitchen until he opened the refrigerator. The gleaming cans stood like red and white soldiers lined within.

"Wow, so many! Why would someone need so many cans of Reddi-whip?"

A beat passed before it dawned on her, "Oh!" Sara's hand shot to her mouth and then she was giggling, her cheeks turning pink.

"Yep." Michael grinned. He was hoping this little peek into his brother's refrigerator would help Sara relax even more. He was figuring if she knew a secret about Linc and Sammie it would make her less self conscious about her own situation.

When Sara reached for one of the cans of whipped cream he doubted his decision. When she popped off the top Michael doubted his decision even more. "Ah , Sara…"

She squirted a huge blast into her mouth and giggled. He was about to stop her but was too late as she put her finger along the nozzle and shook the can, sending the white fluffy stuff flying out at him.

"Oh! Oh, I'm so..." Giggles over took her apology and Sara clutched at her sides, the can in her hand lowering.

"You think this is funny, Tancredi? Grabbing the handle, Michael pulled open the door of the refrigerator, his mind set on revenge.

The cool aluminum fit snuggly in his hands and then he was popping off the tops with his thumbs. There was the second before he took aim, with Sara's eyes growing big and then he let her have it, two huge blasts.

Sara screeched and raised her own can blasting him back and then she was desperately shaking her can to build up the pressure.

Michael, not waiting for her to reload blasted Sara again.

"No!" She held up her can and pressed the nozzle, but only a few drips squirted out mixed with pressurized air. "Empty!" She lunged for the door of the refrigerator, but Michael's shoulder shot out to slam it shut. A screech later the chase was on.

They had made it around the kitchen at least twice when they noticed they had an audience. Stopping short, his breath raging out of him, Michael took in Lincoln and Sam's amused expressions. If there were anymore jokes to be made about whipped cream, Michael guessed that after today they would be aimed at him, no pun intended.

XXXXX

Despite the jokes about having dessert before the main course, Lincoln's idea of razzing his baby brother, dinner had gone pretty well. But first he and Sara had to clean up themselves and the mess in the kitchen, and Michael had spent the short time cursing himself with every swipe of the sponge for letting his good intensions morph into what Linc had dubbed at dinner 'The Great Reddi whip war of 2007'.

So much for being professional about this, he never should have let it happen. Michael was still thinking about it as Sam carried his cake through the door. His eyes took in the chocolate frosting, his favorite, and the two glowing candles, the large 3 and 1 centered in the middle of the cake.

He hadn't celebrated his Birthday since…Closing his eyes, Michael forced his thoughts to the present, telling himself he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't think about his last Birthday spent with Angela, the cake she had baked him...

"Go on man blow out the candles so we can start throwing the frosting at you." Linc's words brought a smile to Michael's face despite his thoughts and then he was leaning in to blow out the candles.

"Wait! You have to make a wish…" His eyes fell on Sara and then moved back to the two bright orbs floating above his cake.

Closing his eyes Michael made his wish and then leaned in to blow them out.

XXXXX

Unsure of what to wish for and just wanting it done, lest his brother suggest he wish for whipped cream in his never ending onslaught of jokes, Michael had wished for the first thing that popped into his head. He had wished that things would work out for Sara.

He told himself now, as he drove to her place that the reason he thought of Sara was her insistence that he make a wish in the first place. Not that he believed in such things, but he felt a nibble of guilt anyways. Shouldn't he have thought of Angela, wished for her recovery? This was stupid, wishing on candles on Birthday cakes brought you nothing.

Refusing to give it anymore thought or importance, Michael pulled the car up to the curb. "Here we are."

On the short drive Michael had explained to Sara that he would be returning to Linc and Sammie's place. "I'll ah, I'll head over right after you get off work, if that's a good time?"

Sara nodded. She had spent the trip to her apartment in relative silence, thinking. "Michael, I'm really sorry about the whole whipped cream thing. I know you're brother was razzing you about it…"

"Sara, don't apologize. I'm the one who brought out the big guns." He couldn't fight the smile that spread across his face. "And to be honest, I think you took the worst of it."

"I did not! "She protested, "I got in some good shot too, I'll have you know!"

"Oh, yeah, well I'd have to disagree, Sara, since I'm not the one with whipped still in my hair."

Her hand shot up to swipe through her red locks. "I don't feel anything…Where?"

Michael reached and gently slid his fingers over the sticky strands. "Right here," he noted her intake of breath at his touch and swore inwardly. "Damn," why had he done that? His hand fell away and he faced forward, his eyes intently studying the street light as it flickered above the trees.

Moments later he heard the unmistakable sound of the car locks disengaging. "I'll see you tomorrow, Michael." Sara said quietly, and then she was slipping from the car.

Michael watched as she walked quickly to her door and disappeared inside. 


	17. Chapter 17

(Author's Chapter Notes) 

I'm sorry it took so long to get this up, but my muse was MIA for a bit due to some personal problems. Thanks for sticking with me on this and thank you for the wonderful reviews!

Julie  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

Looking up from his breakfast of cookie crisp cereal smothered in milk, Michael's eyes followed his older brother's progress through the room. Lincoln stopped at the closet where he grabbed his boots and quietly shut the door. They were alone in the apartment this morning, Sammie having already headed out for the day. He didn't want to make his brother late for work but he needed to ask him something and he knew the opportunity might not present itself again. Michael didn't want to lose out on his chance to speak with his brother alone.

"Linc, you gotta minute?"

Linc's eyes shot up from the boot he was lacing up. "What's up Mike?"

"I just...do you think we could talk for a minute? There's something I need to ask you, a favor."

"Yeah, sure man." Michael could see the curiosity in his brother's blue eyes as he slid out the chair across from him and sat down. Pushing aside his cereal Michael decided to test the theory that cookie crisp cereal stayed crispy in milk and met his brother's inquisitive gaze. "It's Angela." Linc's eyebrows rose a little at this but he settled back to listen without a word.

"I need you to watch out for her, Linc. To visit her, maybe read to her a little, while I'm in California? Let me know if anything changes with her."

Unsure of what he was expecting from his brother, Michael was pleasantly surprised by Linc's response. "Sure, man I can do that…what, like maybe twice a week? Or I can go more if you want?"

Michael smiled and shook his head, "No, twice a week is fine…that would be great. I'm going there this morning to say goodbye and…" He broke off, his eyes traveling to the mini cookies growing soggy in his bowl.

"Mike?" Raising his head Michael's eyes came level with his brother's. "I know I haven't always handled things that well where you and Angela are concerned." A beat later, "I guess what I'm trying to say is you're my baby brother and I love you no matter what you do for a living. I just want you to be happy, man, and…and well I realized that gettin' in your face was not the best way to go about things…So I'm here for you man, no matter what." Linc's voice choked up a little and then it was his eyes on the blue bowl.

As Michael digested Linc's words, his apology, he studied him. He realized then that the change in his brother was greater then he had imagined. He knew it was Sammie's influence that had brought about this change and he said a silent thanks to her as he reached across the table to grasp his brother's larger hand.

Fighting back the lump that had grown in his throat, he met Linc's eyes when they tipped back up to face him. "I know you just want what's best for me, Linc. That's all you've ever wanted, and I know that, I think I've always known that. So, thank you, thank you for doing this, for understanding, for everything."

Lincoln nodded, at a loss for words for the growing lump in his own throat. A beat later he was clearing his throat, pushing back from the table and coming to stand. "I better get to work or Derek will be pissed. You'll be around later tonight though, right?"

The heavy discussion having come to an end, Michael nodded and came to his feet, his hands going into his pockets. "Yeah, I'll be around later tonight. I'm expected at Sara's around five or six but I need to swing by my apartment and grab some clothes for the trip. We leave in the morning."

Linc's worried eyes landed on Michael's face. "I could do that for you man, just tell me what you need, it's no big deal. I pass by there on my way to and from work everyday. I could save you a trip." Linc's casual tone didn't fool Michael.

Michael shook his head, "No, its ok I can go myself."

"Yeah, okay man, whatever you wanna do."

"Linc?" He was halfway out the door when he turned back to meet his little brother's smiling eyes.

"I'll be careful, I promise."

Shaking his head, Lincoln grinned and then he was pulling the door closed behind him.

XXXXX

Slender fingers trailed once again through auburn strands, once sticky, but now silky smooth thanks to the wonders of Pantene shampoo, only to fall away again

Sara was supposed to be stocking the shelves this morning and she felt guilty knowing that when she left for California in the morning she would be leaving Amy with extra work if she didn't finish. But here she was anyways, hiding out in the back of the store with everything that had happened the day before playing on her mind

The day had gone well, Michael's Birthday, at least she had thought so.

Sammie and Lincoln were more then nice to her and then the whipped cream fight with Michael and his brother's teasing. Sara wasn't sure if all the ribbing from Lincoln bothered Michael, it hadn't seemed too but still she had felt the need to apologize for her behavior.

An apology that had been shrugged away with his joking and then...

She hadn't imagined Michael's gentle touch in her hair, the breath his fingers had stolen from her, had she? Sara shook herself. No, she hadn't imagined it. But she also hadn't imagined Michael's growing coldness as he shut himself off, his head turning to gaze out the windshield in obvious dismissal.

Her hurt feelings had pushed her out of the car then, and moved her along to her door, only to enter her empty apartment for another night spent alone.

And now here she was under the soft lighting of the store, attempting to what, decipher his actions…His moods? It was a lost cause and Sara knew it. If any man were more a mystery then Michael Scofield she would be greatly surprised.

Still, her thoughts were in abundance as she forced her hand to dip into the box for another tome to place on the shelf.

Did Angela play into any of this, and if so, how? If she was so important to Michael, then why wasn't she at his Birthday dinner? Why was Michael inviting a client if he had a girlfriend? Was it possible that Angela was no longer a part of his life?

"Hey, look at what I found," Sara jumped at Amy's sudden voice, the jerky movement making her drop the book she held loosely in her hand as she tumbled from her thoughts. "Sorry," Amy grinned in apology, "I didn't mean to startle you.

"It's okay," Sara squinted, craning her neck to see the book Amy held in her hands. "What have you got there?" Sara felt her cheeks flare as the title of the book swam into view, 'Fun with food'.

"Ames," pushing herself to her feet, Sara wished silently that she hadn't told her best friend about the whipped cream war. But she had told Amy all. Well, almost all. Sara had left out Michael's reaction to her gift. Another mystery she would probably never solve.

"What? I just thought you might want some light reading for the plane tomorrow." Amy quipped, her teal eyes dancing with mischief as she followed Sara though the store.

"Ha, ha, very funny, Amy," a few steps took Sara's quick legs to the erotica section where she unceremoniously plopped the book back into its spot next to 'Pastry fetishes: A guide to erotic baking'. And then she was turning to face her friend. "What I need to do is find a gift for Katie and Paul. And please don't suggest, 'Don't get your panties in a bunch'," Sara's eyes strayed to the bookshelf, her coppery gaze landing on the saucy tome that she could only assume enforced the letting go of one's sexual inhibitions, but also summed up her sister Katie's personality to a tee.

Amy chuckled. "I was so going to, too. I guess you know me too well, huh?"

Sara shook her head and grinned, but then her carefree features clouded, her hands coming to wring together nervously. "There's been so much going on lately, I guess I just forgot to buy a gift. And we leave tomorrow, Ames." Sara felt her stomach flip with nervousness. She hadn't really let herself think much about the wedding, her mind consumed with thoughts of Michael upon awakening. But now it was hitting her full force.

Come tomorrow she and Michael would be arriving at the airport and then on to her parents home. And she shouldn't even let herself think about the Airplane. Sara was a nervous flyer, always had been much to her father's annoyance, but she had gotten better with age and now it was just the take offs and descents she dreaded. Still, she would die if she got sick in front of Michael!

"So, you ask Michael to help you pick something out, maybe some lingerie?" this suggestion was accompanied by more twinkling mischief. But then Amy noticed her friend's paling expression." Hey, you know I'm only ribbing you, right? I mean I know you're nervous and I was just trying to lighten things up…Cheer you up a little."

Sara nodded, "Its okay, I know what you were trying to do Ames, and I appreciate it, I do, it's just..." Sara took a deep breath. "I'm scared, Amy. I'm afraid I'll blow this whole thing somehow. But mostly I'm afraid that, that once this is all over I won't ever see Michael again." This last was voiced low, but Sara knew it was true. If she knew that Michael would be in her life after this was over, she thought maybe she could handle just about anything her family threw at her.

"He'd be a fool to ever let you go Sara. If he doesn't realize how special you are then he's not good enough for you anyways."

Sara nodded, fighting against the tears that were sure to win, despite or maybe because of Amy's kind words.

"Come here, Kid." Sara moved into the comfort of her best friend's arms, and closed her eyes as the tears began to spill down her porcelain cheeks.

(The next morning)

Taking a deep breath, Sara leaned back in the seat, her knuckles whitening in their efforts to ground her. And the plane hadn't even taken off yet.

Glancing sideways, she was relieved to see Michael flipping through the magazine he had purchased at a small newstand in the airport. He seemed to be completely at ease with the impending flight and so far he hadn't noticed her nervousness or maybe he just chalked up any odd behavior as nerves about this whole thing. Surely he had to expect that she would be a little nervous now that the big day was finally upon them?

Gulping back the thought of what awaited them at the end of their journey, Sara was reminded how very dry her throat was and she winced. Soon they would be in the air and the flight attendants would come around with the beverage cart, but that would be at least a good twenty minutes, maybe more.

Making her death grip loosen somewhat, Sara forced her shoulders to relax and fumbled in her handbag for the gum that would not only moisten the desert in her mouth, but lessen the pressure in her ears once they were in the air. Plus it gave her something to do with her hands.

Bad idea! Her hands were shaking and she almost dropped the gum drawing Michael's attention.

"You okay, Sara?" His eyes, as blue as the small square of sky passed his left shoulder were concerned. Did she look as nervous as she felt?

Nodding, she worked the gum loose from the wrapper and shoved it in her mouth. Now he was watching her chew, great. Looking away, she let her hair fall forward covering her face and placed her hands on the arms of the seat, subconsciously gripping them hard as the engines fired up. They would be taking off soon.

"Sara?" His fingers on her arm were almost enough to distract her as the plane began to move down the runway.

Looking up she met his eyes. Sara was sure it must have been the look of pure terror in her eyes that prompted him to wrap his fingers around hers, but that was okay. Gripping his hand tightly, she closed her eyes, simultaneously wishing to be in the air and hoping that the runway was endless so that she could continue to hold onto him.

Her heart was pounding warp speed, her seat beginning to shake from the powerful thrust of the engines as the plane sped up. And then they were airborne. Opening her clenched eyelids, Sara glanced to her left. Michael was studying her worriedly. "Everything okay, now?"

Not trusting her voice, Sara simply nodded.

"Good, do you think I could have my hand back?"

It was only then that Sara realized she was still holding his hand tightly. Relaxing her grip, she was starting to apologize when she saw that he was smiling. "I didn't know you were a nervous flyer."

"Mm, hmm, I always have been, but its mostly just take off and landings that bother me. I should be okay now. Thanks for letting me borrow your hand." Sara replied shyly. She felt pretty silly now that they were flying smoothly amongst the clouds.

"No problem, of course I probably won't have any feeling in my hand for a few days, but..."

"Oh! God, did I squeeze it that hard, I'm so sorry, Michael, I…"

"Sara that was a joke, my hand is fine. In fact I'm sure it will have made a complete recovery by the time we prepare for landing. So if you need to borrow it again…"

Sara felt a small smile touch her lips and then she met his eyes, her voice coming out softly, "I may just take you up on that."

It was almost like a light went off then, one second their eyes were connecting and then he was looking away, flipping open his magazine. He was shutting himself off again.

Feeling confused, Sara sat quietly for a moment. And then she was pulling the paperback she had brought along for the trip from her handbag and flipping it open, only to stare at the words as she pretended to read.

XXXXX

Figuring she could only stare at the small printed pages for so long before it would become apparent that she wasn't really into the book; Sara had replaced her book mark, with the sure knowledge that she would retain little if any of what she had read on the flight. She was now leaning back with her eyes closed as she pretended to sleep.

Really she was thinking about Michael and his warm, cold mood swings. She just didn't get him. Last night he had shown up shortly after she arrived home from shopping for her sister's wedding gift. Sara still wasn't sure about the engraved platter she had purchased, but she knew Katie would find something wrong with anything she gave her so it didn't really matter anyways. But she had found something and it was now packed safely in with her other belongings. That was what was most important; Sara wouldn't be showing up empty handed. Katie would have never let her live that one down.

Lifting her eyelids a little, Sara let Michael's long frame fill her peripheral vision. He was still engrossed in his magazine. The drink cart had come and gone and as she watched, he reached for his cola and brought it up, his eyes only briefly glancing away from the article he was reading.

Closing her eyes then, lest he catch her staring, Sara's thoughts went back to the night before. Dinner, Chinese takeout was eaten in front of the television with the longest conversation being who would die on LOST this season and then he was standing up to leave, both of them agreeing that they should make an early night of it since they had to be up early the next morning to catch their flight.

At the door Michael had reassured her once again that he would be there at 6:30 to pick her up, and true to his word he had arrived that morning at 6:30 on the dot.

The rest of the morning was a jumble of rushing to get from one line to another with just enough time for a fast food breakfast of Egg Mcmuffins and coffee from cups that warned of its scalding contents.

Sara felt her stomach rumble now. Breakfast had been hours ago. She jumped as the loud ding sounded alerting the passengers that they should now fasten their seatbelts to prepare for landing. Suddenly her stomach, no longer complaining for food clenched and her fingers instantly tightened on the arm rests.

Her eyes were still closed tightly when Michael slipped his hand into hers and the plane began its descent.

XXXXX

They were safely on the ground, but Sara's legs were still wobbly from the landing. Michael had let go of her hand almost instantly this time, no playful banter, nothing to indicate that seconds ago she had gripped his hand desperately.

"Their meeting us here, your parents, right?"

"Yes." Sara had increased her pace to keep up with his long legs, so when he suddenly stopped in front of her it was all she could do to keep from running into him.

He turned then, blue eyes coming level with brown copper, "Are you ready, Sara?"

Sara nodded, "I think I am," she lied. But whether she was ready or not as soon as they walked around the corner the game was on. Luckily her parents would be expecting a nervous Sara so soon after a flight, but then what? She didn't have long to ponder this question.

"Ok, let's do it." Michael's eyes were determined and it lent a moment of calm. He seemed to think they could pull this off.

At a much slower pace, they approached the corner. Right before they stepped within view Michael reached for her hand and squeezed it, but he didn't it let go. It wasn't until Sara saw her parents that she realized it was solely for their benefit.

"Sara!"

"Dad, Mom!" Letting go of Michael's hand Sara let herself be engulfed by her father, his big arms making her feel small in his embrace and then she was met by her mother's fragrant arms.

Jill Tancredi was a stern believer that a woman was only as classy as her cologne. The fact that Sara wore body spray purchased at Wal-mart was something Jill refused to let go. Sara had no doubt that her mother would drop the not so subtle hint that Sara treat herself once in a while to a designer fragrance, before the two weeks were up.

Pulling away, Sara turned to Michael. "I'm sure you both remember Michael?"

"Great to see you again Michael," Frank Tancredi's impressive voice cut with ease through the airport clamor.

Sara took her place next to Michael as he shook hands with her father. "It's a pleasure to see you again Mr. and Mrs. Tancredi." Michael said warmly including her mother in his greeting.

"Don't be silly, Michael, you're practically a part of the family. "Jill patted his arm. "We insist you call us Frank and Jill. I'm so glad that you could join us for our Katie's wedding." Jill Tancredi's perfect auburn locks stayed in place as she gave Michael a quick hug. "And of course we want our future son in law to feel at home with us, don't we dear? This was addressed to Frank, but before he could get a word out. "Oh, that reminds me, Sara, there were some last minute confirmations and we seem to have more guests staying at the house then we anticipated. I've put you and Michael in your old room." Turning to Michael, "The room has been fully remodeled, so not to worry; those four walls haven't seen a Blink 186 poster in some time!" Sara felt her cheeks flush and she didn't even bother correcting her mother's mistake with the band's name.

"Sounds great, right, Sara?" Michael said catching her eyes. Sara nodded as his hand once again slipped into her own.

As the amiable chat continued around her, Sara knew she was offering very little to the conversation. But her mind was still reeling from the announcement that she and Michael were expected to share a room.

A few minutes later the foursome were making their way through the busy airport. A quick stop to retrieve their luggage and they would be on their way.

XXXXX

Once in the car, Sara's mother had explained that Paul and Katie were called away but planned to stop by the house later that evening to meet Michael. And of course Katie couldn't wait to see her little sister! In the mean time why didn't they grab an early dinner? The four of them, with Frank at the wheel had then headed to a five star restaurant that was always a family favorite, Shwin's.

Sara could remember having gone to Shwin's many times in her childhood while growing up. Whenever there was cause for celebration, her father would say "Let's take it to Shwin's." In fact Sara was fairly certain that Katie and Paul's rehearsal dinner was to be in the Grand Banquet room of this very restaurant.

So, why were they here now? Was it to impress Michael? Sara felt amazed that her parents would go to the trouble, but it was short lived when she was forced to remind herself and not for the first time that evening that this was all just a fairytale, bought and paid for with her savings. But unlike their Princess Katie, Sara's fiancé wasn't real. There was no Prince Charming; there was no such thing as happily ever after. Once they stepped off the plane in Chicago two weeks from now, Michael would walk out of her life and she would most likely never see him again.

"More like happily never after…"

"Did you say something, Sara?"

"Hmm?" Glancing up at Michael, Sara shook her head. "Oh, I was just thinking about something, sorry."

Dinner was over and the two of them were waiting for the valet to bring the car around.

"I think it's going pretty well so far. Your parents seem to like me." Michael's hands were shoved into the pockets of his pants and Sara tried not to think about how good he looked standing there in the warm night air, the light blue dress shirt he was wearing now rolled up at the sleeves showing his tanned arms. I think I may have impressed your Dad with my Engineering skillz," Michael grinned.

Studying him openly now, Sara's forehead wrinkled up. "How did you know all that stuff anyways, I thought you were just going to BS your way through any and all questions my father might throw at you?"

"Well I was but then I got to thinking about what you said, about your dad having questions, and Linc does have a computer, so I did a little research." His eyes grew serious. "Sara, if I gave you the impression in the past, that I don't take this job seriously, I'm sorry." Michael's head shot passed her shoulder then and a smile slid over his features. Turning her head, Sara followed his eyes to see her father approaching.

"Sorry about that. Jill should be along shortly. The Wilkinson's are one of our top investors in the company and we just couldn't get away without exchanging a few pleasantries. I'm sure you understand Michael?"

"No problem, Frank. We all know how big business works. Besides it gave me and Sara a little time alone together, right sweetheart?" Michael's hand left his pocket and slid into hers.

Sara agreed with a quiet nod.

Despite his remarks of a few moments ago about taking his 'job' seriously, Michael's deep voice was still traveling hotly through her. This wasn't the first time Sara had been called sweetheart, but it certainly felt like a first.

Her knees still weak, Sara told herself that Michael Scofield could probably make just about anything seem new.


	18. Chapter 18

His conversation with Frank had started with business and then moved on to politics. Michael suspected sports would follow next or maybe the weather. The man sure could talk.

He now fully understood any concerns Sara may have had with his BSing abilities, but Michael thought he was holding his own pretty well so far.

And then the room fell silent.

One minute Frank was finishing up on why the economy was in such a state and the next he had grown quiet. As the seconds ticked away Michael began to feel a little nervous.

Sara and her mother had headed off to the kitchen to make ice cream sundaes for the four of them. They had been out of the room for maybe ten minutes tops, and Michael had to wonder if this was the opportunity Frank had been waiting for, that the rest had just been small talk leading up to this, the important talk. The one a fiancé should expect to have with his future father in law at some point.

Michael didn't have to wonder long, when Frank's eyes having grown serious met his from across the table. "You seem like a level headed young man Michael, smart, a bright future ahead of you." There was a slight pause then and Michael forced his eyes to stay level with Frank's, to hold the stare that stirred the guilt in his gut making him uneasy with where this was heading. "Sara is and always has been a bit…How should I put this?" Another slight pause, "In the past, Sara's choices in companionship haven't always been the best...I guess what I'm asking here is, what are your intentions, are they honorable, Michael? Do you love my daughter?"

Michael was opening his mouth to answer when the doorbell rang.

XXXXX

"Hot fudge or strawberries? Sara?"

"Huh?" Oh ah…hot fudge I guess." Sara and her mother were in the kitchen making ice cream sundaes. And she was trying to pay attention, she really was, but her mind was back in the dining room where she had left Michael alone with her father.

What were the two of them talking about?

So far Frank had mostly talked shop with Michael, asking him about his structural engineering firm. And of course Frank had brought up politics. Sara's father was a devote republican and could talk a blue streak in defense of just about any issue including but not exclusive to the war in Iraq.

Sara had breathed a sigh of relief when Michael was able to hold his own, not only supplying Frank with excellent answers about his non existent firm, but also providing intelligent observations and responses to any and all questions Frank had thrown at him about George W.

Sara topped off a sundae with a squirt of Reddi Whip, a small smile playing across her lips despite her concerns. She couldn't help thinking about her whipped cream battle with Michael, two days prior. The memory helped soothe her nerves and she squirted the second sundae with a burst of white fluff. Besides, maybe she was just being paranoid? For all Sara knew her father could be going on about the rising gas prices.

She looked up to see her mother studying her. "What?"

"He's a lovely young man Sara. He makes you happy, doesn't he?"

Sara nodded around the growing lump in her throat. "Michael's great, Mom."

"You love him." This was not a question, but another example of her mother's hardly subtle approach to gleaning information to dissect and pick apart later, or so Sara suspected.

She was used to this, so why was this inquiry any different, why did she feel her defenses coming up with reinforced steel?

"Yes, Mom, I mean I am marrying Michael, remember?"

"Sara, don't. You always get so defensive. I was just…"

"You were just what Mom?" Ignited copper met Jill's deep green orbs and then Sara's eyes fell away, moving to the melting ice cream sundaes in their perfect little sundae cups.

Sara imagined the sundaes becoming melted puddles of sugary goop, from the heat of her eyes and then snatched them up. "Maybe we should just talk about this some other time. These are melting."

Jill Tancredi nodded, and grabbed the two remaining sundae cups off the counter. As Sara followed her mother out of the kitchen she wondered if maybe she was wrong. Maybe her mom was sincerely interested in her relationship with Michael. But if so, this would certainly be a first.

XXXXX

"Hold that thought, Michael. I'll be right back." Frank said excusing himself.

Bullet successfully dodged, Michael breathed a sigh of relief as Frank left the room.

What could he have said to the man anyways? This was not something Michael was fully prepared for. Sure he had known it might come up and a lie would have probably sufficed, but what if Frank saw through him? There was no denying that the man was sharp.

Michael was glad to have been spared this, even if it was only temporary.

Scraping a hand through his closely cropped hair, Michael took another deep breath and leaned back in the chair. This momentary reprieve was short lived however; his shoulders had yet to make full contact with the back of the posh chair he was sitting on when Sara followed her mother in from the kitchen.

Her shoulders were stiff and from the look in Sara's eyes, Michael could tell their mother daughter time had not gone over well.

Avoiding his eyes, Sara set his sundae in front of him. "I hope hot fudge is ok."

"Sara!"

Sara jumped, turning so quickly, her sundae almost slipped from her fingers. And it would have too, had she not tightened her grip at the last second.

Michael followed her wide eyes to the tall brunette as she came rushing towards them. The woman was around his age, with wavy dark hair surrounding a perfect heart shaped face, her large green eyes sparkling with confidence. Michael had to admit she was stunning.

He had only a moment to make the connection; that this must be Sara's sister Katie, and then she was upon them, her deft fingers snatching the sundae from Sara's hand and depositing it on the table.

Moments later, the two were hugging.

XXXXX

"I can't believe it! Sara you're finally here!" Katie pulled back from the hug first, her eyes coming to land almost instantly on Michael who was now standing. "This has to be Michael," Katie's eyes appraised him silently for a moment and then she was shoving her hand towards him.

Sara was silent throughout the introductions; her shoulders aching with tension as she watched Michael shake hands first with Katie and then with Paul.

The room was bustling with activity around her. Their mother was talking a mile a minute, her voice bubbling out, the tension from moments before in the kitchen completely erased from her animated features as she asked Katie questions, something to do with the ballroom dance lessons they had scheduled and how lovely Katie would look swirling around the dance floor in her wedding gown. And did Paul get fitted for his tux yet? This last was said with an edge of worry, her mother's hands coming together, her fingers twisting much like Sara's when she was feeling stressed out or anxious.

Katie's throaty laugh joined the chorus, followed by her reassuring voice, "Relax Mom! Daddy, Paul, tell Mom that everything is going to run smoothly, please."

Sara couldn't help but feel excluded as he father and Paul joined in with their reassurances. In fact she was fairly certain that she could slip away and no one would be the wiser.

It was Michael who grounded Sara, his hand slipping into hers. His eyes asking if she was okay, "The sundaes are melting."

Though he hadn't spoken loudly, all eyes shot to Michael, their gazes falling instantly to his hand joined with Sara's as if realizing for the first time that Katie and Paul were not the only engaged couple in the room.

XXXXX

Sara wasn't sure their attentive eyes were welcome. She was used to being ignored when Katie was in the room, not stared at.

"Ooh, ice cream sundaes," Katie cooed reclaiming the attention, as if she hadn't noticed that they were about to sit down to dessert.

So used to having her way, Sara's sibling dipped a finger into the melting mess of whipped cream and licked it off. "Do you mind?"

Sara was no longer hungry for the sickly sweets; in fact she thought she'd had enough without taking a single bite. She was about to tell Katie that the sundae was all hers when Michael spoke from beside her

"No of course not, go right ahead. Sara and I will just share this one, right sweetheart?"

Nodding dumbly, Sara followed Michael to the table and settled in next to him as everyone took their places around the large table. Evidently they were once again more then just fixtures in the room.

"So, Michael you're a structural engineer?" Katie said as she nibbled on a bite of melted ice cream.

"That's what they tell me, Katie." Michael smiled and scooped up a spoonful of ice cream.

Sara froze for a moment as the utensil came at her face and then she let him feed her, the first bite making her change her mind. She thought maybe she could eat the whole sundae if Michael was willing to feed it to her.

His playful actions sent a warm flutter to Sara's stomach despite the cold ice cream she was consuming, but it only shut her sister up for a blink at best.

"So what, you design buildings then?"

"I do, but I also make sure that my firm's projects, as well as already existing buildings are structurally sound. Take the Taj Mahal for example; The Taj was designed using axial force, a series of external forces along the longitude middle axis. If you were to remove those supports, the whole thing would come down. So if there is a problem, say visible cracking to one of those supports they would call me in…But I have to confess I've never worked on the Taj." Michael ended with a quirky smile.

Everyone was looking at him now and Sara was worried that he had messed up, maybe said something that gave him away.

"So, do you ever get to blow stuff up?" Paul's question broke the silence and Sara let out the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

XXXXX

It was late. Paul and Katie had left, and shortly after Sara and Michael had excused themselves and headed upstairs.

"Nice room."

Sara's eyes shot nervously from the queen sized bed to Michael before falling quickly away. The bed was big enough for two, but was it big enough for Michael?

"You know my Aunt and Uncle, their kids, the other house guests my mom mentioned earlier? They won't be arriving until sometime tomorrow night I think, so you could sleep in one of the spare bedrooms tonight. That is if you want to."

"I could, but that's probably not a good idea, Sara. If someone were to find out it might cause problems. Raise questions we won't want to answer. Besides, it's no big deal. I can just sleep on the floor."

"Um, okay, if you're sure?"

"I'm positive." Michael grabbed one of his suitcases off the floor and plopped it on the bed.

Sara watched him for a moment as he unzipped the bag, and then forcing her eyes away, she grabbed one of her own bags and set it on the dresser.

Moments later she was heading into the bathroom to change for bed.

XXXXX

As soon as the bathroom door closed Michael slipped out of his pants and started unbuttoning his shirt. He was hoping to avoid more awkwardness, to be in his pajamas and ready for bed by the time Sara was finished in the bathroom.

He slipped out of his shirt and tossed it aside. He hadn't missed the look of relief in Sara's eyes when he said he would sleep on the floor. This whole sleeping arrangement thing was obviously making her uncomfortable. And he had to admit it was unexpected, but so far he had managed to keep this on a professional level and there was no reason why sharing a room should be any different.

Where the hell were they? He had been certain the pajamas would be in the larger of the two suitcases he had packed but maybe…He zipped it closed and pulled the smaller one up and opened it. He rifled through it quickly. No pajamas. "Damn it!" He was standing there in his boxers swearing under his breath when the bathroom door opened and Sara stepped out.

"Is something wrong?"

They took one look at each other and both averted their eyes. Sara was wearing a light pink nightgown that ended mid thigh, and while it covered her body completely it did little to conceal her curves.

What the hell happened to Strawberry Shortcake? Wishing more then ever he liked bath robes, Michael stepped over to his suitcase to continue his search, but really he was just hoping to conceal his growing arousal. It's been too long, that's all, his mind muttered.

"No, I just seem to have forgotten to pack my pajamas. I don't usually wear them but I could have sworn I packed some for the trip."

"Oh. I could ask my dad if he has some that you could borrow." Sara offered as she busied herself with unpacking.

Sliding open a drawer, she placed a stack of jeans inside. Michael had avoided looking at Sara but at the sound of her efforts his eyes shot up from the useless contents of his suitcase.

She was unpacking…Tonight? "No that's okay. But it is getting pretty late. Do you maybe have a spare blanket or two? And a pillow would be good."

"Oh God, I'm sorry Michael! You're probably really tired. This can wait until tomorrow. I just hate ironing and I figured if I unpacked my things now they might not be so bad." Sara explained as she stopped what she was doing and headed for the closet.

A moment later she was bringing him an arm load of blankets and a pillow.

"Thanks," he tossed most of them to the floor, save the one he draped around his shoulders to cover his body.

"Are you cold? I could turn up the heat?" Sara's eyes were concerned, and Michael would have seen this, if he wasn't already grabbing up his toiletry bag and heading for the bathroom.

"It's maybe a little cold in here, but I should be fine now." He threw over his shoulder as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

XXXXX

Maybe fifteen minutes had passed since the lights were turned off. Sara could hear Michael as he tossed and turned trying to get comfortable on the floor beside her bed.

"Michael, are you awake?" She asked the obvious.

"Yeah, I'm awake, Sara."

Sara was silent for a beat. "I think you really impressed my family with that stuff about the Taj Mahal. Is that something you learned online?"

She could hear his soft laughter. "What's so funny?"

"English, Fitz or Percy." When she didn't respond, "Sara it was straight out of Prison Break. You know when tattoo man is in the warden's office...Building the Taj Mahal!" Sara finished with him and they both laughed.

"Who said television has to be brainless, huh?"

"You're insane! What if one of them watches it, Michael? And they might too!"

"Yeah they might, but it's unlikely that they would remember it. It's from season one."

Sara felt a giggle building. The stress of the day was finally coming out and it felt good. A thought came to her and even though she knew it was wrong, and Michael might not find it nearly as funny as she did she was soon burying her face in her pillow to stifle the sounds of her laughter.

It was Michael's turn to ask, "What's so funny?"

Removing her face from the pillow Sara gulped air in efforts to gain control. "I was just thinking that next you will be explai…" She was overcome with a fit of giggles again. When she caught her breath, "Next you will be explaining about Hooker's law!"

Sara was giggling again when the pillow hit her upside the head. "Hey!" She grabbed it and started to throw it back but then thought better of it and tucked it under her head. They were both laughing now and Sara was glad that he got her joke. She had been a little afraid that he would be offended.

"Give me back my pillow, Wench."

"Wench, who calls someone a wench these days?" Looking down at him, Sara giggled and snuggled into the pillow in an exaggerated show of making herself comfy.

Michael laughed, "Don't make me come up there and get it Tancredi."

Her laughter died in her throat as their eyes met. And then he was looking away, his eyes moving to the ceiling as he closed off again.

Feeling hurt, and telling herself she had no right to be, Sara pulled the pillow from beneath her head and tossed it down to him. "Goodnight, Michael." She said softly, and flipping over, she put her back to him.

A beat later, "Goodnight, Sara."

It would be some time before she found sleep that night… 


	19. Chapter 19

The steam was thick. Sara pushed open the glass shower door and stepped out of the stall, her dripping fingers instantly seeking out a towel to wrap turban style around her wet, red tresses. A second towel was then wrapped around her body, a simple tuck of terry- cotton blend into the top near her left armpit not adding much of a feeling of security.

Was she really intending to go out there like this? And there was no doubt Michael was still in the bedroom, he was awaiting his turn in the shower.

Swiping a hand across the steamy mirror, her eyes took in the blurry image of her face, flushed pink bordering on red from the shower, zero makeup to camouflage her imperfections, her eyes clouded with an anxious worry. A sexy combo to be sure. Not.

Ugh. Why hadn't she insisted he go first? They had both awakened around the same time, Michael hauling himself up from what had to be a rough night's sleep to judge by the way he was moving. Sara had seen Mrs. P's eighty plus frame move quicker and with more ease. He was suffering.

Her teeth clamping down on the tip of her tongue was all that had saved her commenting. That and the feeling if she were to offer to share her bed he would simply decline and continue to suffer. Better to pretend nothing was wrong then risk that rejection.

Knowing she was simply delaying the inevitable, Sara moved to the door.

Taking a deep breath or two, she steeled herself and then wrapped her hand around the slippery door handle. A moment later she was entering the cool air of the bedroom, her eyes instantly falling on Michael.

The sight of him sitting on the bed, or better yet what he was doing on the bed wiped away all thought or embarrassment of her towel clad body.

The stack of blue and gold yearbooks drew Sara's eyes like a magnet from Michael's boxer clad form. He was looking at her old school pictures?!

He glanced up and then quickly away, his eyes back on the book he held open in his lap. "I found these in the closet. I figured I'd unpack and hang some of my things. You have yearbooks from grade K-12 here Sara," he was intensely studying the small pictures now.

But he wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know. Sara had purposely left the books behind when she moved to Chicago. Grabbing a shirt off the chair, she pulled it on over the towel she was suddenly too aware of and hastily buttoned it. It wasn't until the last button was fastened that she realized it was the light blue shirt Michael had worn the night before.

Leaving it, she pulled the towel off her head and moved to the bed to sit down, her eyes still drawn to the looming stack. "How many of those have you looked through?" She felt slightly ill. Had he seen her entire evolution of dorkhood?

"This is only the second one. I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Um, well I don't. I mean I did, but about two years ago I had Lasik surgery. As you probably noticed, my glasses were just short of coke bottle lenses and I was never fond of contacts." Sara had the image of Michael flipping through the books and her cheeks blazed red. Why hadn't she burned the blasted things?

Flipping the book closed, he set it aside only to grab up another. As he opened it a flier fluttered down from its pages to land in his lap, "Tiny Dancers?" he smiled as he read the large pink letters at the top of the page.

Sara felt her cheeks growing even hotter. "Yeah, it was a ballet group my mom made me join. I was five and hated it. I think I dropped out shortly after that picture was taken. I'm not sure how it got in with these things." She carefully snatched the flier from his fingers. "I'm a terrible dancer. I think I had blisters on top of my blisters and cried so much my mom finally let me quit."

Her eyes studied the picture quietly as she sought out the overly skinny child with knobby knees and too large glasses. She was only aware of the silence in the room when Michael spoke, his eyes on her face as he reclaimed the program flier. "You were a cute kid, even with the glasses. And I bet you were better at this then you thought."

Sara met his eyes for a brief moment before falling away. "Trust me, I really wasn't." After a beat, "Michael, my mother has us scheduled for ballroom dance lessons and just so you know, I'm not any better at that then I was at ballet." Her stomach was still flipping from his casual comment about her being cute despite the belief that he was only saying it to make her feel better.

Did he have any idea how embarrassing this was? Sharing a part of her life with him that she wished to forget? Growing up in her big sister's shadow had been tough. Katie was good at just about everything, ballet included. The seven year age difference between them had left much for Sara to live up to. And as far as she knew she had fallen short in every area, including developmentally. Their baby books could attest to this. Katie had rolled over, walked and spoken her first words at a younger age. Not to mention the bond she had with their parents, being the only child for those seven years. The flier was a lonely reminder of a game of catch up Sara was genetically doomed to fail.

"Hey," she looked up to meet his eyes and surprised herself by holding her gaze level with his while he spoke. "Maybe you just never had the right teacher." As if to explain, "In my line of work it pays to learn to dance. No pun intended." His lips turned up in a slight smile. "It'll be fine Sara, I promise." He set the book aside and headed for the bathroom.

She watched him quietly, his boxer clad bottom sending more heat to her face as she thought about being in his arms on the dance floor.

Once he was behind the closed bathroom door, Sara stood and pulled the towel from around her body, hugging herself close as the softness of Michael's shirt enveloped her damp skin.

XXXXX

Breakfast with Jill and Frank was much as Sara had remembered it, only this time Michael was sitting beside her and instead of discussing Katie's achievements they were discussing her wedding.

Looking down at the half eaten eggs on her plate Sara wondered if she had eaten enough to excuse herself. This thought was followed by the reminder that she was a grown woman not a child. But being in her parent's home tended to do that to Sara. And despite any inner scolding she would find herself thinking like the child she had once been under their roof.

The conversation fell away to the quieter sounds of utensils on porcelain and Sara jumped at the thought of an escape suddenly within reach, her bottom rising up from her chair a little too quickly, sending the mostly full plate flipping up and over onto the pristine white cloth that covered the breakfast table. "Oh, I'm sorry!" She quickly grabbed up her napkin and started blotting at the mess hopelessly.

Michael rose from his chair and started helping her, his hands working silently beside hers as he scooped up the toast and plopped the jam covered slices back onto the plate.

Jill had yet to say a word, but Sara could feel her mother's watchful eyes on her and knew what she must be thinking, that her klutz of a daughter had done it again.

A chime filled the air, filling Sara with a sigh of relief. It was the doorbell. "I should get that," Jill excused herself, dabbing daintily at her mouth before rising gracefully from her spot at the table.

A moment later, Sara heard her mother's excited voice, "Frank, their here! They caught an earlier flight!"

Sara gave her father an apologetic look as he stood to join Jill at the door and then tossed her napkin on top of the mess. A beat later she turned to Michael. He was licking the jam from his fingers, his eyes twinkling. Did he find this amusing?

Fighting her embarrassment, a losing battle as usual Sara's face turned bright red.

"I had a feeling you wanted to leave the table, but…" Now the smile in his eyes hit his lips and Sara's eyes dipped away, her hair falling down to cover her face. "Hey, this isn't a big deal, Sara. It's just a table cloth."

Not a big deal to him maybe, but being a klutz was a big deal if it was something you dealt with on an almost daily basis. She nodded, "Yeah, I know, no use crying over spilt milk, right?" She was trying to make light of the situation, to pretend it didn't bother her. "You actually missed the milk by this much," he grinned, his hand coming up to measure just how close she had come to overturning the tall glass, his thumb and pointer finger only a breath or two apart in it's demonstration.

"Ha ha, very funny," now Sara was licking the jam off her own fingers. The stuff was everywhere.

She looked up when a set of sparkling green eyes surrounded by cute freckles appeared in the doorway. "Sara!"

Her mood instantly brightened as Jessie shot towards her and into her arms. Smoothing a hand over her eleven year old cousin's auburn curls, Sara hugged her close, a smile taking up residence on her face. It had been over a year since she'd seen her small cousins and up until yesterday she had thought they wouldn't be able to make it. But here Jessie was and her twin brother James was sure to follow.

Jessie pulled away and turned shyly to Michael. "Hi, I'm Jessie, Sara's cousin."

"Nice to meet you Jessie, Sara's cousin. I'm Michael, Sara's fiancé." Michael teased with a smile on his lips.

Jessie's cheeks turned pink and the color deepened when Michael took her hand in his. Sara had to wonder if he had that affect on all auburn haired women or if it was simply a genetic curse the two shared.

"O.M.G. I just beat world five!"

Sara grinned at the sight of eleven year old James, his DS glued to his face as he walked, miraculously dodging the obstacles in his path as if he too were in a video game. Her grin widened as Jessie rolled her eyes. "He's such a Wii-tard and all that text talk, it drives me crazy!" This seemed to break the spell of whatever game he was playing and James looked up. "I'm not a Wii-tard! Mom, Jessie called me a Wii-tard again!"

Michael chuckled next to Sara and she just shook her head thinking this should be an interesting day.

(Later)

The day had been interesting, the dinner table filled with the excited voices of multiple conversation and a barely contained pea war where the twins were concerned. Michael had sat back quietly watching; the sibling's bickering reminding him of his own childhood with Lincoln.

Soon after the situation was defused, Sara had been monopolized by Jessie. And despite the fact it was obvious she now had James on ignore, it was easy to see that the little girl loved her older cousin. She had asked Sara so many questions about her life in Chicago, details about the book store seeming to hold her interest the most.

With dinner over, Michael had found himself engrossed in a scrabble tournament along with Sara and possibly the wordiest eleven year old he had ever met.

Jessie had kicked their ass, her finishing blow a word that had almost sent the soft drink Michael was sipping spewing out through his nose.

He fought a smile now as he remembered the look on Sara's face when Jessie proudly eased her tiles in place. Starting on the G in the word giraffe she had deftly filled in the spots to spell out Gigolo, her smile sending her freckle speckled nose into a cute little crinkle as her green eyes beamed at them triumphantly.

Game over, the box stowed away, Michael had excused himself and made his way outside to call Lincoln.

Checking in was probably not necessary, and Michael knew this, he had only been away a little over twenty-four hours, and most likely Linc had yet to visit with Angela, but it would ease his mind to speak with his brother, to insure that everything was fine back home.

Few words spoken, Michael had paced the large gardens; Lincoln and Sammie were on their way out when he caught them and he didn't want to make them late.

Reassured now that all was well, Michael made his way back into the house. He could hear the voices of Jill and her younger sister Susan as they continued to 'catch up'.

Susan and Jim Whistler, Sara's aunt and uncle seemed to be an easy going couple, unlike Sara's parents, but then he shouldn't be surprised by this. Anyone who would name their kids after a Wild West villain had to be fairly laid back.

The two women's voices and easy laughter faded away as Michael jogged lightly up the steps to the second floor. He heard the music before he hit the top step and his curiosity peaked.

Following the sounds of The Black Eyed Peas, he made his way along the hall to a door that was slightly ajar and peeked in.

"Whatcha gonna do with all that junk, all that junk inside your trunk..."

Sara and Jessie were dancing, pink night clothes swirling as they jumped around the room, their hands linked together as they giggled breathlessly.

Michael grinned as he stood quietly in the doorway. He hadn't seen anything so cute in a long while. Sara was like a little girl, and he couldn't help thinking it was good to see her so uninhibited, relaxed and having fun. He watched for a few minutes more as the two twirled, faced each other and started pistoning their arms up and down, their butts shaking in time with the music.

"My hump, my hump, my hump. My lovely lady lumps!"

They had yet to notice him standing there and he was wondering if he should just slip away when Sara twirled around, her eyes landing on him, her disheveled hair falling over her strawberry short cake pajamas. A beat later Jessie was following her cousin's startled eyes and they were both staring at him, a high blush rising in both of their already flushed cheeks.

"Sorry, I just ah, I heard the music. I didn't mean to interrupt." He was kicking himself at having been caught, at having ruined their fun.

Sara broke away and headed to the dresser to flip the button that would silence the CD player. She turned back to him, her hair falling over her face as she spoke. "We were just goofing off. I'm ready for bed if you are."

Michael nodded, "Yeah, I was just on my way. Take your time. Good night Jessie." The little girl just nodded, obviously still embarrassed, her cheeks still aflame.

Michael turned and left the room, a smile hitting his lips at the soft giggles that followed his departure.

XXXXX

Cheeks still heated, whether from her exertions with Jessie or from the fact that Michael had caught them acting so silly, Sara couldn't be sure. But the sight of him standing in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, an easy grin on his handsome features had filled her with embarrassment, while at the same time flipping her stomach in time with the music that was mostly forgotten as she fought with her emotions.

It was Jessie standing beside her that finally made Sara move her reluctant limbs to the dresser to silence the radio.

Now she was on her way to bed, to face Michael...

Sara's hand landed on the door knob and she paused. So he had caught her acting like a silly kid? What was the big deal? It wasn't like this was the first time she had embarrassed herself in front of Michael.

Twisting the knob Sara pushed open the door and stepped inside the bedroom. She could hear the shower running through the closed bathroom door and let out a sigh of relief.

Maybe she could just pretend she was asleep when he came out? That way she could avoid any further embarrassment.

Setting her plan into action Sara turned off the lights and hopped into bed.

Laying there she listened as the quiet sounds of the shower ended to be replaced by silence. Despite efforts to block out her thoughts, Sara envisioned Michael there behind closed doors, a towel sucking the moisture from his lean but muscular frame as he dried off.

"Traitor," she scolded softly into the night air and flipped her body, placing her back to the door.

"Thoughts like those certainly won't help", she scolded herself inwardly and punched at her pillow before easing her head back down in silence.

The sounds of the sink running broke the quiet pulse pounding in her ears and Sara knew it was only a matter of time before Michael would be joining her in the bedroom. She glanced down at the spot he would occupy on the floor and wished he would be joining her in her bed as well, but that wasn't likely to happen and she knew it.

Her eyes snapped closed as the sound of the door opening behind her hit the air.

Relaxing her body, she listened to Michael's quiet movements in the room. He was fixing his makeshift bed. She eased open an eyelid to see him spreading out a blanket, his boxer clad form drenched in the moonlight coming in through the windows lighting his body, hugging its definitions like the ghost of an imagination as she watched him work.

Her breath was caught partway in her throat and she forced it out as she closed her eyes in an effort to stop the visual examination that would, no doubt render her sleepless and unfulfilled.

Soft sounds hit the air as Michael made himself comfortable and then all was quiet, the silence tinged with something it took Sara a moment to place. There was a heavy pull in the air and she told herself she was being silly when her mind latched onto the thought that Michael was looking up at her.

All it would take was the opening of her closed lid and she could confirm or demolish her suspicions.

Sara lay there undecided as to what to do, a part of her wanting the eye contact, while the other more cautious side of her lay in fear of what would surely follow, his dismissal as his gaze shifted away leaving her in a breathless rejection.

Moments passed and the feeling faded. It was only then that Sara chanced to open her eyes, to gaze down at him.

Michael's head was turned to the side allowing barely a view of his down turned lash.

She studied him briefly in the moon lit darkness and then telling herself she had imagined the whole thing, Sara closed her own eyes in search of sleep.

(The next morning)

The sound of knocking awakened her and Sara's tired eyes opened to the bright sunlight coming in through the windows.

She was opening her mouth to shout the normal response of "Come in" when she remembered the anything but normal situation of her roommate sleeping on the floor. "Just a minute!" she voiced quickly, her heart pounding in her chest as adrenaline filled her with a rude awakening. "Michael!" she hissed in a whisper. "Michael!"

His eyes came open groggily and he was looking up into her anxious features. Not waiting for recognition of the situation to dawn on his face, Sara shot out a hand to grab him as the other one lifted the blankets. "Get in here!"

Without a word he scrambled in beside her, his arm going easily around her shoulders.

"Sara is this a bad time?" Katie's voice held a teasing lilt that Sara was all too familiar with.

"Um, ah no come in!" Forcing herself to relax, Sara leaned back into Michael's arm. She was only too aware of his fingers, his thigh pressed lightly against hers, the thin cotton of her pajamas an unworthy adversary as his bed warm flesh penetrated to hotly sear her skin.

The door opened to a perfectly put together Katie. Sara smiled over at her sister and shifted herself to a sitting position. "What's up?" She was going for a nonchalance she had never mastered and she was sure she was doomed to fail at this delivery.

Katie's eyes washed over them, her lawyer honed instincts taking in the situation to end with a smirk. Her gaze fixed for a moment on Sara's strawberry short cake pajamas before coming up, amused green hitting copper. "And here I thought I was interrupting something, but with those pajamas?"

Katie's mocking tone sent Sara looking away, her hair falling to cover her pink cheeks. It was Michael who spoke next, his fingers moving beneath the blanket to land in her hand. "Yeah, well what can I say, I've always had a thing for red heads wearing pink, and honestly? I have yet to see Sara in anything that I couldn't wait to get her out of."

Katie's mouth dropped open and then she was clamping it shut, but her shock was short lived, her response to ignore Michael, her focus once more on Sara. "Mom wanted me to tell you the dress fitting got moved up. It's ten-thirty now." She was ready to dismiss them both, her curvy figure turning away when she thought better of it and turned back. "Oh, I almost forgot, Sara, MsElegante's, the bridal shop? It moved from the downtown area. Do you have a pen and paper?"

"I think so," not thinking about it, Sara removed her hand from Michael's and leaned over him, her intention to pull open the bedside drawer, but when she pulled on it, it jammed.

She was inches above his body and knew that the only way she could gain some leverage would be to lower her body closer to his. Moving hesitantly, she yanked again from her new position, still nothing.

Lowering her body onto him, she pulled harder, her body squirming along his. His arm was coming up around her waist to steady her as she yanked one last time, harder, the drawer suddenly shooting out, sending her breasts pressing into his bare abdomen and another lower hardness she could not deny as her body fell back from the momentum.

Fighting embarrassment she quickly eased up and rooted around in the drawer, grabbing at the contents, relieved to find a pad and pen easily within reach.

She sat up, her eyes anywhere but on Michael as she fought the blush creeping onto her cheeks. By the expression on her sister's face, Sara knew Katie assumed any embarrassment was due to her klutziness.

"Okay, I'm ready, go ahead." Her hair slid to block her features as she jotted down the location of the dress shop where she would be fitted for her bride's maid dress and then Katie was gone, the room suddenly in silence but for the pounding in Sara's ears.

Sara was all too aware that guys generally awoke with an erection, and knew that she most likely was not to blame, nor the cause, but still to feel Michael pressed against her like that?

"Um, I should probably head to the shower. Dress fitting at ten-thirty," Sara repeated stupidly as if Michael hadn't been right there when her sister told her the time change.

Not waiting for a response, Sara threw back the blankets and slid out of the bed.

She wondered what Michael was thinking as she slipped inside the bathroom and closed the door.


	20. Chapter 20

(This chapter is fairly short, but I had a couple of requests for some backstory on Michael and his relationship with Angela. )

Being alone was something he was used to, so why did it feel so quiet, so out of place in this house? Michael knew the answer. The house had been bustling with life, something he was not used to, not really and then suddenly everyone was gone.

It had been great for the first twenty minutes, but now he was missing the noises that came along with the many people he was sharing his quarters with, the constant snippets of conversation he would catch, Jessie and James' bickering. He needed something to break the silence.

Grabbing up the remote, he flipped on the television and started channel surfing.

He could have gone with Sara to the bridal shop. He knew she wouldn't have minded, least he thought she wouldn't have minded. After their morning in bed together he wasn't so sure.

Had she felt it, or was she just embarrassed about the drawer? No, she had felt it. The truth was he had awakened with it. Katie's appearance had pretty much sent it back into hiding, but then Sara had pressed against him.

He pressed a button on the remote. His finger froze, he froze, his heart in his throat, his mind moving far away from the events of the morning. The woman doctor on the screen looked like Angela. He gulped down the lump and told himself to change the channel but he couldn't. She was laughing, the woman. It had been so long since he saw his Angela laugh.

He shook himself, "She's not Angela; she's not."

Angela would have been a doctor by now. It was what she had always wanted, to help people, like she had helped him.

Back then he wasn't sure what she saw in him. He was going through jobs and women left and right. Back then he made most of his money selling pot and other illegal substances. He was a fuck up and he could readily admit it now. Angela had changed him for the better.

He hadn't known women like Angela existed, someone so good, so caring. When he met her she was caring for an elderly man on a volunteer basis. The man was dying and needed oxygen. It was just another job for Michael to deliver it, a job he ironically came close to quitting that very same morning.

She was just another stop on his route, but so much more. When she answered the door he had been floored. He remembered mumbling something about a delivery and she had laughed.

He gulped again his eyes riveted to the blonde doctor on the screen and he realized she didn't look as much like Angela as he had at first thought. The eyes were all wrong. But the damage was done, his mind going where he seldom allowed it to go, the past.

After that first delivery he was no longer so anxious to quit his job, in fact he made sure she was on his route. He would save the delivery for last and try to strike up conversations with her. Soon she was making them tea and cookies, his visits growing longer with each delivery.

But he had noticed the changes within himself right away. He was growing along with their friendship. He stopped selling drugs, with a promise to Angela he would never do it again. He was getting his shit together and it was because of this Angel. He was falling for her, and it was more then her beauty that drew him to her, it was her soul.

Long conversations later, he had finally summoned up the courage to take the relationship a step further. Even though he knew she was too good for him, he had asked her out.

"She said yes…She should have said no." Spoken softly, as Grey's Anatomy continued to play in oblivion.

If Angela had said no he would have been crushed, he would have gone away, most likely licking his wounds. He would have gone back to his old lifestyle.

If she had said no, they wouldn't have moved in together, they never would have made plans.

Not that he regretted a moment spent with her, God no, but if she had said no, he wouldn't have asked her to be his wife. She wouldn't have been on the road with him that night. They wouldn't have argued. She would still be...

If only he could go back and change things...

Vision blurred, he flipped the channel and blinked the tears away.

His vision cleared and his eyes were met with The Family Guy's sarcastic little Stewie: "Am I to spend the entire day wallowing around in my own feces? A little service here?"

No longer in the mood to watch TV, Michael pressed the button, silencing the large screen.

He had noticed a pool outside and the weather was warm. Maybe a swim was what he needed. Maybe physical exertion would take his mind off things. And maybe it would take the kinks out of his back from his nights spent sleeping on the floor.

Moving through the house, Michael made his way up the stairs to change into his board shorts.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Chapter Notes:

This first part is a bit different and I am not sure how well it works, but I wanted to try something different. I wanted to show a comparison of their thoughts and the similarities in their day, rather metophorical or actual. Also thank you for being so patient and for sticking with me on this fic. I know it has been a while since my last update. I have been swamped lately. Hopefully my life will grow less chaotic soon. Thanks to all of you who have left me reviews and comments. Please know I have read them all and appreciate you taking the time to let me know your thoughts on this story.

(Hugs)

Julie

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The muscles in his shoulders began to ache and Michael welcomed the distraction, a distraction that kept his thoughts at bay; that drowned them out with each turn of his head, each expulsion of breath.

Michael had made countless laps in the long, cool pool, its smooth liquid fingers matching him stroke for stroke as it washed over his flexing arms, as its beads clung to his skin, shining brightly in the California sunlight.

XXX

Sara's shoulders were starting to ache, but she held her arms straight out as instructed. So far she had been pricked with three pins and she was afraid to move for fear of another.

Still, that wasn't the worst part of this. The worst part of the dress fitting was listening to Katie's ever present voice, the sarcasm always there, lurking beneath the surface, ready to leap up from the depths with a stinging, acid bite.

Sara was surprised her sister had not seized this opportunity to make a comment about her once knobby knees. This had to be a first. But then there was still time. Unfortunately this morning was far from over.

XXX

He dove beneath the surface, swimming deeper. Opening eyes that were almost a perfect match for the pool's cool, blue depths, he scanned the bottom beneath him. He would need air soon, his aching lungs the buoy that would urge him to break the water's surface in a gasp.

XXX

Letting her mind wander, Sara tuned out Katie and Jill, her mind moving with ease beneath the surface of their droning voices, back to earlier that morning, to a particular moment in time, the memory of Michael's body hard beneath her quickly easing any physical discomfort she might be feeling as the color rose brightly in her cheeks.

Against her better judgment Sara let her mind dive deeper, to imagine him beneath her, the hot fluidity of Michael beneath her fingers.

A breath caught in her throat as Sara remembered the one time, the drunken night she had tasted his lips, felt his pulse beating hard beneath her lips as they washed against his neck in exploration.

XXX

Breaking the surface, his pulse beat hard in his throat as he gulped in a breath, as his chlorine reddened eyes tipped up to scan the clear sky. In complete contrast, there was not a cloud to be seen, nothing to mar the surface of this perfect unbroken blue.

XXX

It must have been her sigh that drew their attention.

It took a few seconds for Sara to realize the room had gone quiet; that her mother and Katie were now staring at her like she had grown three heads, three blushing heads to be exact.

Katie giggled and in her discomfort Sara fidgeted, her reward a sharp jab with yet another pin.

XXX

He climbed from the pool, the wet board shorts hanging low on his hips with the weight of the water that clung to them. Long rivulets of water ran along his lean frame as he made his way to the deck chair and grabbed up the sun heated towel to pull around his shoulders. The kink in his neck protested this movement and he winced before moving to scrape the towel over his face.

XXX

The awkward moment was broken, the unwanted attention moving away from Sara when the owner of the dress shop entered the room.

Sara fought back a very different kind of sigh, one of relief, as the seamstress who thought she was a human voodoo doll stepped away, taking her pin cushion of death with her as she moved to join the discussion taking place a few feet away.

Still, this morning couldn't end soon enough.

XXX

Michael lowered his body down onto the deck chair, his eyes going closed as his head hit the warm fabric, the warmth of the sun soaking into him, its heat a solid curtain of red beneath his closed lids as a sigh escaped him.

A light breeze rustled through the trees to pass over his damp skin and then he was asleep, the red curtain turning to a flash of auburn that hid coppery eyes.

XXXXX

A shadow fell over him blocking the sun. Perhaps it was this that woke Michael, or maybe it was her eyes on him that drew him to consciousness. Squinting, he looked up at her.

"Hey."

Sara pulled her eyes from him, her hair falling to cover her face as she plopped down into the deck chair adjacent to him. Michael had a flash of the dream before it was swept from his mind and then it was gone as if the wind, in its greed, had stolen it before he could lay any claim to it.

"How did it go?" his voice was laden with sleep as he eased his frame to a sitting position.

"It went." Sara laid her head back, her eyes going closed as he studied her.

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, but it could have been worse. I mean, I could have gotten tetanus from all the pin pricks." Sara tried to joke.

She opened her eyes and turned to look at him when she heard the smile in his voice. "Or you could have bled to death."

"That would have been a welcomed escape. Of course I would have never heard the last of it. And before you ask me how, trust me, my sister would find a way to throw it in my face despite the fact I was no longer breathing."

Michael was laughing now and she joined him, her body relaxing for the first time all day.

When she saw him lying there in his damp board shorts, her first thought had been to flee, to turn and walk back the way she had come, but then his sleepy eyes had blinked open and she was stuck. Now she was glad she had been caught.

"How was the water?" She said, her eyes moving to the pool.

"The water was great. Made me sleepy," he stretched his arms over his head and Sara enjoyed the view of his long, lean body for a beat before moving her eyes back to the deep end.

"That's good, because my mother and Katie plan to throw a BBQ sometime this week." A beat later, "Michael our first ballroom dance lesson is tomorrow." Sara paused, her eyes still on the rippling water of the pool. The only blue depths she felt comfortable looking into at that moment.

"Then we'll be ready. Tonight after dinner…We dance.

XXXXX

His words by the poolside earlier had made a lump form in her throat and now the butterflies in Sara's stomach were banging against her insides full force as if in an attempt to reach freedom.

Dinner was over and the time was near. Very near. Soon she would be in Michael's arms. For better or for worse this was happening. He was about to find out just how inept she was on the dance floor.

Sara was wringing her hands nervously when he entered the bedroom with the small CD player.

"I borrowed this from Jessie."

He bent to plug it in and Sara's eyes drank him in. How could one man look so incredible 24/7? He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and she was sure he looked better in them then any model being paid the big bucks to endorse. She jerked her eyes from his behind as he stood and turned.

"So, you ready for this?" He clapped his hands together and she jumped slightly.

"Yeah, no, uh huh," Sara nodded and stood up from where she was sitting on the bed.

She forced her hands to relax at her sides. Should she wait for him to come to her, or join him in the middle of the room?

Her question was answered as he moved towards her, his hand held out. "Come on."

She nodded, "Okay, but don't say you haven't been warned."

His smile spread warmth through her and then he was pulling her close, taking her breath. The music he had chosen, obviously a local station was as close to ballroom as one could get.

"Relax Sara."

While one hand was wrapped around hers, his other hand was at the small of her back and she could feel the warmth of each digit through the thin cotton t-shirt she wore. How was she to relax? Still she tried.

"Look at me." His demand erased all of her previous efforts. "Sara, I'm your fiancé, we need eye contact to pull this off." His voice was gentle as he reminded her.

She nodded and brought her eyes up level with his. He was so close she could see the small freckles on his slightly pink nose, his time in the sun that afternoon having brought them out, no doubt.

"If I don't look at my feet…"

She thought this was a good excuse, but Michael shook his head. "Just relax, Sara, and follow my movements ok?"

Nodding again, Sara lifted her right foot. Her movements felt unnatural to her as he moved her through the room.

As if reading her thoughts, "You're doing great. Pretend I'm Jessie if that helps." His smile was reflected in his eyes.

"Yeah, okay." Yeah right. Pretend he was her cousin? Surely he was joking?

As they made their way across the room again Sara grazed his foot, somehow managing to not step on his toes, a miracle in sunny California.

She had a feeling she looked a bit like the tin woodsman from the Wizard of Oz trying to move after being caught out in a heavy rain, but Michael was smiling at her encouragingly.

"You're doing great…You haven't stepped on my toes once." This was barely out of his mouth when she did just that, her heel crunching down on the side of his foot. He winced.

"I'm sorry!" she tried to pull back but he held her firmly.

"Its okay, Sara, I'll live. Besides, toes are overrated." He was grinning at her and she couldn't help but smile back as she shook her head.

"Just remember that when your hobbling tomorrow, Michael."

He laughed and spun her around. "I will do that. But I won't be hobbling. You'll see. After an hour or two of this you'll be dancing like a pro."

An hour or two, was he serious? Sara felt her face grow hot at the idea of spending so long in Michael's arms. She had a feeling she would be a pro by then or maybe drop dead from over stimulation.

"I'm going to dip you so be prepared."

Dip her? "Oh!"

His face was inches away, grinning down at her. Seconds later he was pulling her back up and into his arms. Over stimulation indeed! It was certainly getting hot in the room. Sara could feel sweat moistening along her brow and the first song hadn't even come to an end yet. She would be a dripping mess before this was over.

And then the song was over. Sara breathed a sigh of relief as a commercial filled the room.

"This is supposed to be fun, Sara. Not torture." He was teasing her, she knew this, but he had no idea how right he was and on how many levels.

"Yeah this is a blast. Like O.M.G." Sara said, channeling James with his text talk.

Michael laughed and then the commercial was over to be replaced with a much slower number. His eyes grew serious and then he stepped towards her again and pulled her closer then the previous song had warranted.

"What dance is this?" Did she sound as breathless as she felt?

"What? Oh, I don't know. This music isn't really right for any of the steps I know, so I'm just winging it."

He winged it well. His arms were around her, and God, he was so close! Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it over the music. But that was silly, wasn't it?

Sara felt a bead of sweat at her temple roll lazily down the side of her face. She reached to brush it aside. His hand caught hers on its way back down and his fingers were wrapping around it, claiming it. They were too close for eye contact, thank God. Sara was sure she would melt into a pool of goo at his feet, if she were to look into his eyes.

The music was sensual and held a hint of the erotic and not in some cheesy porno kind of way. It was a romantic tune, one that Sara had never heard before but it seemed to have been written for these improvised movements.

And then the song was ending. Michael pulled back, his eyes not meeting hers. Soon the room was filled with a faster number.

He hesitated for only a moment and then took her into his arms, but there was at least a foot of space between them. And that was as close as they would get the rest of the night.

XXXXX

"Why are you sleeping on the floor?"

Michael pried open his eyes to look up at the pint sized redhead standing over him. "Ah, I…I guess I rolled off?" He knew this was lame and by the look on Jessie's face she wasn't buying it either.

"Did you and Sara have a fight? When my mom and dad fight, Dad always ends up in the guest room." As she spoke Jessie perched herself on the edge of the bed. She was regarding him with her curious green eyes and didn't appear to be leaving any time soon.

Michael pulled the blanket around him and sat up. "Yeah, we did have a small fight," he said using this for a cover as to why he was sleeping on the floor, "but don't worry, Jess, it was nothing serious. And I'm sure we'll make up." His eyes moved to the empty bed behind Jessie. "Where is she? Have you seen Sara this morning?"

Jessie shrugged, "Dunno. She was up early. And then she left. I thought you were up too, that's why I didn't knock. I was wondering if I could have my CD player back."

"Yeah, sure," Michael said distractedly.

He couldn't help but wonder if the previous night was to blame for Sara's absence. He was an idiot to have let it go so far. He wasn't even sure what happened. One minute he was enjoying himself and then the next he was enjoying himself a little too much.

His hormones were to blame, no doubt, but still he had felt strange. He had never felt guilty for doing his job before, but last night, in Sara's arms he had felt something close to that. But then, he reminded himself, he had never gotten this close to a client before. He had never gotten to know a client this well. Hell, he had never gotten to know a client _period_.

Scraping a hand over his face, he looked up at Jessie. She was staring at him but looked away when his eyes met hers.

"I guess I'll just get my CD player." She shrugged her small shoulders and rose from the bed.

Jessie was halfway to the door, CD player in hand when he stopped her, "Jess?" She looked back at him curiously, "Don't mention to Sara that you and I talked about the fight, okay?"

Jessie nodded and then she was out door.

XXXXX

Sara had awakened early, her mind too alert to fall back to sleep. Instead of risking waking Michael, she had showered in the downstairs bathroom and after a quick breakfast of toast and juice she had headed out.

Sara was moving along the trail now. She was about two miles into her hike and her legs were starting to feel it. She hadn't done this in so long. Hiking was once a favorite pastime for Sara. It was where she found her true grace. For some reason, alone with nature she was confident not to trip, not to bump into the many branches that presented themselves as the sun dappled through them. She was somehow in tune with herself here. And it gave her a chance to think as well; to think about Michael.

Last night Michael had…what? Pulled back from her, that was for sure, but what exactly had happened?

After what she was calling in her own mind, 'their close dance', Michael had shied away from her. It was only too obvious he was keeping a purposeful amount of space between them the remainder of the night. The lesson had seemed somehow more professional from that moment on, and Sara had to admit she had learned a lot. Michael was an excellent dancer. Still, as was often the case where he was concerned, she was left feeling confused and unsure of herself.

Sighing, Sara pushed a branch aside and stepped into a clearing in the woods. She took in the beauty of the trees in their graceful dance of wind and sunlight and breathed deeply.

This was her place and her place alone. She had never told a soul about this small clearing. She had a crazy thought, that she would like to bring Michael here someday and then shook it from her head.

And it was crazy. Why would she even think something like that?

Sighing again, Sara glanced at her watch. She should be getting back. She hadn't told anyone she was leaving.

She took one last glance at the beauty and serenity of the woods and then turned around to head back up the trail.

XXXXX

Sara stepped from the shower and grabbed a towel from the towel rack. She had worked up a sweat on her hike, but now she felt refreshed.

Scraping a hand over the steamy mirror she gazed at her features, her skin red from the heat of the shower, the turban style towel perched on her head, pulling one of her eyebrows up in an unnatural slant. "Be-oootiful", she made a face, sucking in her cheeks like a model and opening her eyes as wide as they would go. Demented was more like it. She stuck out her tongue at her reflection and made her way to the door to peek out.

All was clear. Michael was not in the bedroom. In fact, she hadn't seen Michael all morning. When Sara returned from her hike he was MIA, but then she hadn't exactly gone looking for him, she had headed straight for the shower.

Moving quickly to the bedroom door, she pushed it shut. She could have sworn she had closed the door behind her before heading to the bathroom.

She was on her way to the dresser when she froze mid stride, the rose on her pillow capturing her eyes and gluing her feet in place. She stared at it for a beat and then made her way hesitantly and plucked the red blossom from its white bed of firm cotton.

Was the rose from Michael? Sara was even more confused by this small but sweet gesture. Why would he leave her a flower? What, if anything did it mean if he had? And if he hadn't, then who? Her mind ticked through the list of the house's occupants. It made no sense for any of them to leave a rose for her, but then it didn't make sense for Michael to have left it either.

Telling herself she could think about this until she was as demented as the mirror had depicted moments ago, Sara set the rose aside and dressed in a soft pink t-shirt and faded jeans. She quickly blew her hair dry and then dabbed on some make-up. She was about to head out when her eyes fell on the rose. She thought about it for only a moment before snatching it up and taking it with her out the door.

Sara sailed right passed Jessie's door, not noticing her small cousin's satisfied, smiling face as she watched from a crack in the bedroom door.

XXXXX

Lunch preparations were in full swing when Sara entered the kitchen. Stella, the live in housekeeper was working diligently at the counter slicing tomatoes for the large sandwich spread she was going to set out.

"Need some help?" Sara offered and plucked a slice of tomato off the plate.

Stella moved to swat at her hand but missed. Grinning in triumph, Sara popped the prize into her mouth.

Stella shook her head and smiled. "You always were too quick for me, Sara." Her eyes lit on the rose in Sara's hand, "That's a lovely rose, but I wouldn't let your mother see you with it if I were you."

It hadn't occurred to Sara _where_ the rose had come from. She had been more concerned with _who _had placed it on her pillow to even realize that Michael must have cut it from her mother's prize winning rose garden. "Oh…whoops! I think Michael must have picked it. I found it on my pillow."

Stella smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Well I did see him in the garden this morning. It would be hard not to notice that one."

"Stella!"

Stella, who was in her upper sixties had worked for the Tancredi's for years and Sara had never seen the woman blush, but there was no denying the color that bloomed in her cheeks. It seemed Michael had that affect on all women, even the grandmotherly type.

So Michael had been in the garden…This morsel of info had not escaped Sara. Her eyes moved back to the large American beauty rose that was indeed a prize winning specimen.

"Stella?"

Sara shoved the rose into a drawer as her mother entered the kitchen. "Ah, Sara, there you are. "Her mother's distracted eyes fell on her briefly, "Michael was looking for you." Dismissing her daughter, "Stella you can begin setting the luncheon buffet out whenever it's ready. Oh, and Mr. Tancredi has requested lemonade, so if you could make some, please?"

"Right away Ma'am." Stella moved to get the lemons from the pantry as Sara grabbed a pitcher from a nearby cupboard. Jill was already halfway back to the dining room.

Sara worked quietly next to Stella, squeezing lemons, her mind on Michael and well everything. "Do you ever wish things were different, Stella? I mean that you could change things in your life?" She surprised herself by asking the older woman.

Stella regarded her quietly for a beat before answering. "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference'. Words I have always held dear, Sara." Stella smiled at her kindly, the wrinkles around her grey eyes deepening.

Sara nodded, "I guess I just don't know how wise or courageous I am, Stella."

"You are many things Sara, and much more then you know."

Sara was opening her mouth to ask Stella exactly what that meant when Michael walked into the kitchen. Her eyes went to the drawer where the rose was tucked away and she wondered if he would mention leaving it for her.

"Hey, there you are. I was looking for you. Jessie said you took off early this morning."

"Yeah, I went for a hike." Sara squeezed the lemon harder and was rewarded by a stream of juice shooting out, most of it landing in the pitcher, but for the small jet that shot towards her face and straight into her eye. "Ouch!"

She dropped the lemon and moved to the sink to flush her eye with water. Why was it she always did stuff like this when Michael was around? He seemed to intensify her klutziness, heightening Murphy's law until it was golden.

"Let me see," Michael was beside her, his hands moving up to place fingers, just the tips lightly against her cheeks as he looked into her eye. "I think you'll live, but we might need to put a glass eye on the wedding registry," he teased, his hands falling away.

Sara's eyes were watering profusely. "That's not funny!" but she was laughing as she said it.

Stella smiled and shook her head as she moved to the sink to shoo them aside so she could fill the pitcher with water. "Lunch will be ready soon, but only if the two of you find someplace else to flirt. In other words, get out from under this old lady's feet and go enjoy each other."

Sara felt her cheeks flare at the assumption that they would do as they were told.

"But if we do that, who is going to help you set out this amazing feast?" Michael charmed, as he took up one of the large platters and headed for the dining room.

"That one is a keeper for sure, Sara."

Yeah, but first I have to catch him, Sara thought as she grabbed a platter and headed for the dining room.

XXXXX

Lunch was almost over, the conversation geared mostly towards the coming wedding and who would be there. By the sounds of the guest list it was to be the social event of the year or so Jill would like to believe.

Sara had tuned out the conversation around her, her mind on the rose still tucked away in a drawer in the kitchen. She wanted to ask Michael about it but if she did her mother would know he had snipped it from her garden.

But Sara knew there was another reason for her hesitation. She was afraid to make too much out of it. So he had given her a rose, big deal? Her heart sped at the possible reasons behind this gesture, despite her inner struggle to play it down. Don't make this into something it isn't, Sara!

Her attention was jerked back to reality when Jessie, who had thus far been sitting quietly, nibbling on her sandwich, spoke, her voice loud enough to be heard by everyone. "Why don't you just go watch the Breakfast Club again, _Jimmie_?"

James glowered at his sister.

Michael having missed the death rays shooting out of James' eyes, piped in, "The Breakfast Club is a great movie. I liked Pretty in pink too. There's nothing like a redhead wearing pink." He glanced at Sara with a grin.

Sara felt her cheeks flush when she realized he was not only talking about the movie but was referring to her. Her eyes dipped down to the pink t-shirt she had chosen to wear. First the rose, now this…Sara reminded herself his comment was just for show but still…

Oh, yeah, Jimmie _loves _Molly Ringwald!" Jessie goaded with a smirk.

Sara had missed the beginning of this exchange between the twins, but could only assume James had said something to Jessie to instigate his sister's wrath. "I do not like Molly Ringworm!"

"Oh yeah, then why did you watch The Breakfast Club _six_ times." Jessie shot back, her small arms crossing in front of her chest with this statement.

James' face was turning red, "I don't like her! Molly…what kind of a name is that, anyways? I mean O.M.G, a Molly is a fish, not a girl!"

Jessie was making fish lips at her brother now…His protestations only adding fuel to the fire.

"Kids…" Susan warned from her place at the table.

"He's such a neo-maxi-zoon-dweebie for Molly!" Jessie said, snidely quoting The Breakfast Club in her insult.

"Shut up!" James was bright red and Sara was starting to wonder if this was going to end with one or both of the twins being grounded.

"James! Both of you! Go to your room!" As if realizing that the twins were sharing a room on this visit and this would not diffuse the situation, "Jessie, go upstairs. James, you go cool off outside." Susan was all business and the twins gave her no lip about their sentencing, they just stood up and filed out of the room. Sara saw Jessie's tongue shoot out at her brother in passing, but neither said a word to the other.

"I'm sorry, guys. Twins, what can I say?" Susan smiled apologetically. A beat later she turned to Sara. "So, do the two of you want kids? Not that I'm trying to get rid of mine!" she joked.

Sara glanced to Michael as if for help, her eyes telling him she was unsure how to answer her aunt's question. "Yes, we definitely want kids, at least two or three, right Sara?"

Sara nodded, "Mm, hmm, two or three…at least."

"That's great. The twins were a handful when they were little, right Jim?" Susan smiled affectionately at her husband as she placed her hand over his.

"Oh, yeah, this, today…this was nothing compared to when they were little." As Jim started in on one of his famous stories about the twin's Sara tuned him out, her thoughts moving to Michael's answer.

Two or three children was exactly the answer she would have given herself, but was this really what Michael wanted, or was it what he thought would be the right answer?

Funny how something as simple as a rose on a pillow could make one question just about everything…


	22. Chapter 22

**Michael listened as Linc went on about buying Sammie an Eiffel tower key ring and how that led to him promising Sam he would take her to Paris someday. He could hear the joy in Linc's voice as he spoke and Michael was happy for his brother. **

**Still, he couldn't help but feel relieved when he was finally able to get a word in edgewise. "How's Angela, Linc, is she ok?"**

**In a more serious tone, "Angela is the same Mike. I read to her for over an hour today. Great book by the way, I might pick it up sometime." **

**"Good…that's great. I really appreciate you doing this for me, Linc…Knowing that you're there, that you're looking out for her while I'm gone, it means a lot Bro."**

**"It's no problem, Man, you know I don't mind doin' it. It's just amazing how she's…" Lincoln didn't finish, but Michael could guess what his brother was going to say, that it was amazing how Angela still looked the same, how little she had changed physically. It was coming up on three years since Lincoln had seen Angela. His last visit had been shortly after the accident and she had still been in bandages then. Finally breaking the silence, "So how's Sara? How are things in sunny California?" **

**Michael was about to answer when he heard something. The noise, a slight snapping sound, though low, was easily detected in the quiet gardens. His alert eyes moved quickly over the row of rose bushes, scanning them for movement before dropping away. **

**"Ah, its fine, the weather's been great, sunny. Listen Linc, I gotta go. Sara and I have a dance lesson in a few. I'll give you a call later this week?" **

**With a flip of his wrist Michael ended the call. He had just shoved his cell phone into his pocket when Katie stepped out from behind one of Jill's prize winning rose bushes.**

**"Michael, there you are. Sara was looking for you. I think she's stressed out about the dancing lessons. Poor thing is not too light on her feet. But then, you probably already know that, huh?"**

**"Sara's fine Katie, in fact, I think she might just surprise you this evening." **

**Katie's eyebrows rose a little at this, "You can't be serious? The Tiny Dancer has learned some moves?" **

**"You don't give your sister enough credit. In fact, I think if anything you go out of your way to point out Sara's faults. Why is that? I mean she's your sister…" **

**The frosty look on Katie's face was followed by her cold voice, "Tell me Michael, who's Angela? Why a secret phone call in the gardens to ask about her? Or maybe I should just ask Sara?"**

**"You can ask her if you want to, Katie. Sara will tell you the same thing I could tell you. Angela is my dog. My brother Lincoln, he's looking after her while I'm away." Michael had quickly constructed this story the second Katie stepped from her hiding place, the smug look on her face from what she thought she may have overheard, far from hidden. **

**"A dog, Angela is a dog?" Katie was looking at him now, disbelief shining in her green eyes.**

**"Yeah, she is. I'm guessing you thought Angela was what, another woman? There is no other woman, Katie. Sara's it for me. You see, I see the things in your sister that you refuse to look for. I can only guess that you're afraid to look, because if you were to, she just might overshadow the inflated image you have of yourself. Now if you will excuse me, my Tiny Dancer is waiting for me."**

**He left Katie standing there with her mouth hanging open. **

**XXXXX**

**"You ready?" **

**Sara nodded, but she wasn't sure if she was ready. Ready to throw up maybe, but to dance in front of her family, in front of Katie?**

**The music had yet to begin and other then the low voices of the rest of the wedding party as they milled around, the room was fairly quiet, prompting Michael to speak softly, for her ears only, "Just remember what I said, okay?"**

**"Right, that toes are overrated." Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest.**

**Michael's easy laughter at her joke brought a smile to Sara's face, but then his blue eyes were all business again, "You're funny, but no…eye contact. Remember, we're engaged Sara, we can't be shy with each other. We have to know each other." **

**"Know each other? Oh! Right, we have to know each other." Sara felt her cheeks flush as her mind headed straight to the gutter on that one, a nervous giggle quick to erupt from her lips at the silly thought that she really was in the gutter and she would soon see her friend Amy waving from her usual VIP seat in the front row. Sara knew these thoughts were spawned from her nervousness, but still...**

**Michael gave her a quizzical look for a moment but then his eyes turned serious and he nodded towards her family. "Let's give them a show, what do you say?" **

**Feeling even more like tossing her cookies, but hiding it as best she could behind a false bravado, "Okay, let's do this." **

**As if this were the cue, the sound of ballroom dance music filled the room and Michael took Sara's hand into his and led her out onto the dance floor.****  
**

**His left hand was already gripping her right hand and in one quick, movement, Michael pulled Sara into a closed dancing position, his right hand coming to land on her shoulder blade at the same instant the nervous fingers of her left hand lit on his right shoulder. She could do this. **

**Taking a deep breath she started to count silently in her head "One, two, three, and One two, three…Smile Sara…Two, three…And eye contact…Two, three…" **

**"It's just a box," she could hear Michael's calming voice from their dance lesson as if he were speaking the words to her now and not the night before, "The basic Waltz step is the box step, Sara. A sequence of six steps which if you were to draw a line connecting all six, you would form a box." **

**Her response came back to her attempting to break her concentration. "Yes, but I couldn't dance my way out of a box with a detailed plan, Michael…" Forcing these distracting thoughts at bay Sara continued to count. "One, two, three…and One two, three…"**

**"You're doing great, Sara." His eyes looked amazing, but she couldn't think about that either…"Two, three…" **

**But he was right, she was; she was really doing it. **

**Sara felt her back straighten a little as she realized she was not totally hopeless at this, she was actually not too bad. As Michael led, she followed. When he turned, she turned. And so far she hadn't squashed a single overrated toe.**

**Soon he was turning them again, moving to close the box. **

**Sara was now facing the couple that had been off to their right just a moment ago; Katie and Paul. As the box closed her eyes met Katie's. Sara met her sister's stare dead on and was delighted when it was Katie who looked away first. **

**Ha! Sara felt a giddiness fill her at this small victory and her eyes moved to Michael. He was smiling at her and she could only guess, but she thought maybe he was aware of what had just transpired between her and Katie, and she felt a surge of love for him just then that almost took her breath, it scared her so much. It swiped the numbers she was using to count her steps from her head so swiftly; it was as if they were written on the chalk board of an overzealous child with eraser in hand. **

**Sara stumbled a little and it threw them both off, but before she could panic Michael tightened his grip on her hand and continued to move, righting their movements so smoothly Sara had to wonder if anyone had even noticed her goof. **

**The dance instructor, Mr. Mahone most certainly had. Sara doubted the man missed much of anything with his hawk like stare. The few times her eyes had lit on him, she had found him almost unnerving, the halo of unruly hair atop his head so in dire need of hair product, lending the appearance that he was somewhat crazed as he observed from the sidelines. **

**Taking a deep breath, Sara went back to ignoring the instructor and let Michael move her across the floor, knowing she would follow him anywhere he chose to lead. **

**XXXXX**

**Several times at the dance studio that night, Sara had noticed Michael wincing and it was not in reaction to smashed toes, not that she hadn't stepped on any. She was sure Michael was rethinking his toes are overrated statement. **

**She glanced over at him now as he came out of the bathroom, his right arm raised over his head, bent at the elbow, rubbing his neck. By the looks of it the sleeping arrangements were finally getting to him, the combination of her Barbie doll sofa, followed by the hard floor having put quite a crick in his neck. **

**Was she really thinking of doing this? Clearing her throat Sara began hesitantly. "Michael?" **

**He turned and looked at her, his hand still rubbing at the stiffness in his neck. When his eyes hit hers she almost lost her nerve. **

**Maybe it was the rose tucked safely away in her suitcase, that made Sara brave, or maybe she was still riding the high of showing Katie up. **

**She wasn't sure what it was that gave her the courage she had thus far lacked but she was able to do it, to get the words out, as mangled as the delivery of said invitation may have sounded, "You could a…There's no reason you couldn't sleep in the bed. You're obviously hurting. I mean first my tiny sofa, now the floor…Really, I don't mind Michael…I…I trust you." Now why had she said that? I trust you? That made it sound as if there was reason for him to doubt that she did trust him and that was far from the case. Michael had been nothing but professional in this. And truthfully she didn't want him to be professional. She wanted him to…Hell she just wanted him. Cheeks on fire now at her thoughts, she attempted to continue, "I mean I know you wouldn't…that we wouldn't…" She was only making things worse, God! "Shut up Sara!" she screamed inwardly and thankfully her tongue obeyed. **

**She stood there looking anywhere but at Michael, waiting as the silent seconds ticked on. It was no more then ten seconds tops before he was answering her, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed when he said. "Yeah, yeah okay. You're right, my back and neck are killing me, that floor is a beast." **

**To Sara's amazement, a few beats later Michael was unbuttoning his shirt and getting ready for bed.**

**XXXXX**

**He said yes. What was he thinking? He had stood there with the silence eating a hole in the air as he thought how to tell her no. How to tell Sara he would rather continue to suffer on the floor than sleep next to her. Not that it should be a big deal and it wasn't, not to him, but what if Sara thought there would be more? But then she had said she trusted him that nothing would happen. Still, he knew the vibe he was getting off her well. He would have to be blind not to have noticed her reaction to his attentions. She still wanted him.**

**He was about to say no, but in the silent seconds that it took for him to answer he had thought of the small gains she made that night. The look of triumph in Sara's eyes as she showed Katie up on the dance floor, her new found confidence as she tried the new steps they were to practice for the next lesson, the Foxtrot. He just couldn't do it. He couldn't reject her. **

**So he had found these words falling from his lips, "Yeah, yeah okay. You're right, my back and neck are killing me, that floor is a beast." And shortly after, Sara had headed to the bathroom.**

**Now he stood with his back to the closed bathroom door. She would be coming out of there soon. He was trying to convince himself it would be ok, that he had made the right decision. Jessie had already caught him sleeping on the floor once and it had been a close call with Katie too. Maybe it was better if he did sleep in the bed. Maybe this could be okay. **

**He heard the bathroom door open as Sara reentered the bedroom. She was ready for bed. Taking a deep breath, Michael turned around hoping, no praying for the sight of baggy pink pajamas that concealed curves, not the clingy little number she had worn the first night of their stay. **

**Nothing is going to happen, just sleep, he vowed as his eyes took in the short sleeved blue nightgown she wore. It was of simple design, one Michael would normally not have considered sexy in the least, but somehow it was. Shit! **

**He could still do this.**

**He averted his eyes as she pulled back the blankets and climbed beneath them. "I'm so beat." Sara snuggled her cheek against the pillow getting comfy. **

**"Yeah, me too," brilliant conversation, but it was the best Michael could do as he took off his pants and climbed in next to Sara, putting his back to her. **

**Yep, he could do this. And tomorrow night it would be that much easier. He told himself things only felt this awkward because of her obvious feelings for him. **

**As he lay facing the window, his eyes locked on the drawn drapes, he tried not to think of the time he was stupid enough to believe that Sara would benefit from a make out session. **

**He closed his eyes vowing that it wouldn't happen again. He wouldn't lead Sara on like that. Still, he could not erase the memory of that night once placed there. He couldn't **_**un**_**-think the memory of her lips, how they had tasted of tears and toothpaste, and how she had felt in his arms….Going from fragile to demanding in a heart beat.**

**Michael told himself the guilt he was feeling was from his mistakes with Sara, not from the fact that in his line of work he should hold onto such a memory. He certainly never had before. Not before Sara. Before now he had just done his job, keeping it as professional as possible and then tried to forget about it. But then before Sara he hadn't made mistakes either. Sure, he was aware that some of his clients liked him a little too much, but this was different somehow. Sara was different. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.**

**With effort, Michael forced his thoughts elsewhere, to safer ground, his confrontation with Katie. He had to be more careful from now on. He had his doubts that she believed him when he said Angela was his dog, but Katie had no proof that he was lying. Still if she were to call his bluff and ask Sara…**

**This was not the right thing to think about either, not if he was to get to sleep anytime soon, and Michael knew this. But at least it was better than the alternative, the alternative that had just pushed her ass into his. **

**He scooted a little further away and sighed as the sounds of Sara's deep breathing changed subtly, as if his movements had stirred her in her sleep. But soon she was breathing deeply again, as if captured by the dream that had almost lost its tenuous grip. **

**It would be a while yet before sleep came for Michael...**

**XXXXX**

**A small movement behind him stirred Michael from sleep. It took only a few beats of silence passing, before he realized what the softness pressed into his back was. Sara. It had been quite a while since he woke up with someone in his bed. Most of his clients showed him the door as soon as his services were rendered, and in all honesty, Michael was only too happy to see the other side of that door. **

**He felt her move again, the silk of her hair on his back now accentuated by the softness of her breath. She was so close, too close, sending the warmth spreading through his stomach into a raging inferno. Michael was about to move, to slip out of the bed when a slim arm snaked around him, the small hand falling carelessly just below his navel and just above his... He froze. **

**If she were to wake up like this it would be awkward. Not just for Sara, but for both of them. Still, he lay there, waiting. He told himself to wait until her breathing had deepened again, that it would be best if he was to slip away without waking her. **

**Placing his hand on Sara's, Michael rested it there, readying himself for escape, even as the softness of her warm skin on the pads of his fingers stirred something within, something that resided above the waist line; the memory of lying like this with Angela. Spooning she had called it, her body melded to his, fitting against him to warm perfection. **

**If Sara was to move just a little closer…Guilt at this thought, the closeness of the memory and the even closer warmth of Sara assaulted Michael; guilt at thinking, feeling, wanting…What? The intimacy two people could share? **

**His hand was still covering Sara's, and suddenly he felt even more, the urgent need to get away. Lifting her fingers gently, he carefully slid out from under the weight of her arm. She stirred a little and then turned over, coming to rest on her side of the bed. Good. When Sara woke, she would be completely unaware of her trespass. **

**His silent footfalls sank into the thick carpeting as he made his way to the bathroom. A shower, that was what he needed, nice and cold. **

**As Michael headed into the bathroom, he told himself it would be ok. He just needed to separate himself from things a little bit more. This was a job, nothing more. And he would finish it no matter how many painful memories it stirred within. No matter how many glimpses of what he was missing….Of what was lost, never to be found.**

**Stripping down, Michael cranked on the shower with determination and stepped beneath its jettisoning spray, the icy shock of the needles hitting his hot tan skin, just what his system needed; drowning out his thoughts, his memories…Taming what beat within until it was once again ensconced behind the cool steel façade he had fashioned for himself three years ago when he first started working for Kelvin…Three years ago when a part of himself died in that car crash, leaving him with the damage that was left behind, left to be shut away, locking everything and everyone else out…Until ultimately he was as void of a life and truly living as she was. **

**Angela… **

**XXXXX**

**As utensils clinked against porcelain, Sara tuned out the talk of the upcoming BBQ and what was to be on the menu. Her thoughts were instead on Michael, as usual. He had been quiet all morning and now, here at lunch surrounded by her family, it was more of the same. Was he having second thoughts about their new sleeping arrangements? Sara had awakened alone in the bed with the sound of the shower running. And in a way it had been kind of a relief, it had taken the awkwardness out of the two of them waking up together. But she was also disappointed. Not that it was a big deal or anything. At least it shouldn't be, but then why did it feel like it was?**

**Her thoughts were disrupted when Katie spoke up from her spot next to Paul. "Sara, Michael mentioned the two of you have a dog? What breed is she?" Though the question was directed at Sara, Katie's eyes were on Michael, the look in her green eyes challenging. **

**Not that Sara noticed this exchange. She was too busy fighting down the panic that filled her. A dog? Sara could not remember Michael mentioning he had a dog. "She's a…a mixed breed. What was it again Honey?" her wide eyes moved to Michael who was still looking at Katie, his eyes cool.**

**"Angela's a mix between a pug and a beagle, remember, Sweetie?" **

**"Isn't that called a Puggle? My friend Nika has one of those! They're so cute!" Jessie piped up from her spot next to Sara.**

**"What? Oh, yeah, it is. I guess I just don't like Bennifering my dog." At the odd looks around the table, "You know adding the two breeds together like she's some kind of Hollywood super couple?" **

**Jessie snorted laughter, "Bennifering! That's awesome! Hey, that would make you and Sara, MiSa!" **

**"MiSa? Michael glanced at Sara with a small smile, "Kind of has a nice ring to it, don't you think, Sweetheart?" **

**Sara nodded and took a sip of her water, she was still reeling, trying to swallow the news that Angela was, what, a dog?…A puggle, which was the most ridiculous name for a breed of dog she had ever heard. But was it true. If Angela was indeed a dog, would Michael have referred to her as an angel? This was just one more thing to add to Sara's confusion.**

**"Speaking of rings…" Susan began but was drowned out by James. **

**"Text talk much, Jess-sicka?" James smirked at his sister and Sara hoped Jessie would just ignore him**

**No such luck. **

**"I'm not text talking…I'm Bennifering! Hey, what would that make James and Molly Ringworm, JaMo? JaMo… That's class!" Jessie burst into laughter.**

**"Knock it off short bus!" James shouted at his sister, his face turning bright red.**

**Jessie made kissing noises at her brother. **

**"Kids, kids, can't we have one meal without the two of you going at each other?" Susan inquired sternly, her blue eyes moving from one twin to the other. **

**"He started it!" Jessie shot out. **

**Susan held up her hand stopping James just as his mouth came open to lob his next missile in this game of verbal table tennis, "Whoa, whoa, let's change the subject, shall we? Now as I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted," Susan's eyes moved to Sara, "Sara, I haven't seen your engagement ring yet. You did bring it, didn't you?" **

**"No, it…ah, one of the stones was loose and I was afraid I would lose it. It's being repaired," Sara saved quickly in fear Michael would jump in. It was important she give her Aunt the same excuse she had given her Mother and Katie.**

**"It's a shame too, it's lovely Susan, you should see it. Michael has wonderful taste." Jill smiled at her future son in law.**

**Sara cringed inwardly despite the rare approval of her mother. The ring Jill was referring to was the engagement ring engineer Michael had given her. The ring that was hopefully melted down and the diamonds reset. Sara had pawned it shortly after her parent's last visit to Chicago.**

**The conversation then headed back to safer ground, the BBQ, and Sara was grateful to have the attention move away from her.**

**But this time her thoughts fled to puggles named Angela and rings that didn't exist…**

**"Hey," Michael glanced up from the magazine he was reading as she entered the room. **

**XXXXX**

**"Hey." **

**He was leaning back on the bed, with the pillows propping him up and to Sara he looked like he was about to nod off to sleep. **

**"I was looking for you." She perched on the side of the bed, her hands coming together in her lap. **

**"Well, you found me, what's up?" Michael regarded her with a sleepy smile. **

**The magazine was now tented over his chest, and Sara shifted her eyes to the People's sexiest men issue, a large picture of McDreamy or McSteamy or whatever he was called staring back at her. If only it was that easy to look into Michael's eyes, she thought, but then the Mcdoctors of Grey's Anatomy had nothing on McGigolo as far as she was concerned. **

**"I ah, I was wondering why you never told me about Angela. That you had a dog?" There she had said it, the question she had been itching to ask him since lunch was now on the table, and Sara felt relief at having finally gotten it off her chest. **

**"I didn't mention it? I'm sorry. I guess it just ...it slipped my mind?" His fingers drummed the glossy surface of the magazine cover.**

**"Okay, I just think…It was a close call, that's all," Sara finished and moved to her feet. She was almost out the door when she stopped, her back still to him. "Any other pets I should know about?" **

**"No." **

**"Okay," she nodded and headed out the door, closing it quietly behind her.**

**XXX**

**With the click of the door closing, Michael scraped a hand over his face, and leaned back into the pillows as if the guilt and frustration he was feeling was weighing him down.**

**This was a job, damn it, and since when did doing his job require that he tell his clients his personal business? Still he knew he had no right to be angry with Sara, she was right, it had been a close call, closer than she knew. But he hated it that she made him lie to her, not that he hadn't ever lied before. He had lied plenty, once. Back then he was good at it.**

**But who was he really angry with here? He knew the answer to that one. The magazine sailed towards the dresser, its pages like wings, slowing its flight until it crashed in a less than satisfactory thump against the hard wood. **

**He was pissed at himself, pissed because it mattered that she had looked at him with less then total belief in her eyes, pissed that her words, no not the words but the way she had said it, that she had to ask all," Any other pets I should know about?" had made him feel as if he had hit an all time low. **

**But what was the alternative? Telling Sara the truth about Angela? He couldn't do that. **

**"I can't do that." His anger suddenly spent Michael leaned back and closed his eyes. "I just can't do that…"**

**XXX**

**Once outside the closed door, Sara let out her breath. Where had that come from? "Any more pets I should know about?" The words had left her lips almost of their own accord. She certainly hadn't planned on voicing the thoughts running rampant through her head. **

**But the feeling that Michael had lied to her when she confronted him about Angela had set her emotions in turmoil. Okay, so maybe he has a girlfriend? This was not a new thought or suspicion. This thought had been born the night Michael drunkenly compared her to Angela. But how or better yet, why would he make up a fictitious dog and name it after his girlfriend if it could be avoided? It didn't make any sense. Why even mention a dog to Katie at all? Maybe she was just making too much out of this. Maybe Angela **_**was**_** a puggle. **

**Sliding down, Sara's backside hit the top step of the staircase. She was still as much in the dark as ever. How could Michael make something as simple as owning a dog such a mystery? **

**"Sara?" **

**Sara's head came up and met inquisitive green eyes. "Hey, Jessie, what are you up to?" **

**"I lost my diary…Or worse, my stupid brother took it." Jessie sighed as she sank dejectedly down onto the step next to Sara. **

**"James isn't stupid, Jess, he's just a boy." **

**"Same thing, isn't it?" Jessie grinned. **

**"You just might have a point there kiddo, but shhh…don't tell anyone I said that." **

**Jessie giggled, her freckled nose crinkling up cutely as she reached to button her lips. **

**"Hey, I know, do you want me to help you look for the diary?" **

**"Would you, Sara? That would be great! Oh, and we could cross examine James too!" Jessie's green eyes glinted mischievously as she rubbed her hands together, "Excellent!" **

**"Whoa, hold on there Ms. Burns, I'm not signing on for any torture here." **

**Jessie giggled again. Ms. Burns, you are so funny Sara." She hopped up, "Where should we start?" **

**"Well, where was the last place you saw the diary?" **

**"Hmmm…" Jessie was lost in thought for a beat, her finger coming up to rest against her chin, "Wait, I know!" she started down the stairs, "Come on slowpoke!" **

**Feeling much better, but still having no further insight where Angela the dog was concerned, Sara hopped up and headed after Jessie in search of the missing diary. Maybe this was a mystery she could actually help solve.**


	23. Chapter 23

The room was so quiet she had to wonder if he was truly asleep, or if Michael, like Sara herself, was just lying there pretending to sleep.

Her thoughts fluttered back to earlier that evening and she fought back a sigh. The remainder of the evening had been spent hanging out with Jessie while Michael, having convinced James to put down his Gameboy long enough to shoot some hoops, had headed for a nearby park. This boys day out had then led to an outing at the local arcade for 'some real action', as James put it when asked upon return, where the two of them had gotten off to for so long.

Sara wasn't sure if it was purposeful on Michael's part, his absence, but in a way she was thankful for the time alone, for some time with nothing expected of them as a couple. She just wasn't feeling up to it.

Shortly after their return, Sara had made her excuses and headed up to bed leaving Michael with an overly excited James telling anyone who would listen what a _God _Michael was at Atomic death crunch.

It wasn't long before Michael was joining her, the quiet noises of him getting ready for bed and climbing in beside her in the near dark going ignored as she faked sleep.

Nothing at all had been resolved that evening. It was still a mystery where the puggle named Angela was concerned. But Sara _had_ helped solve the mystery of the missing diary, which was easy enough once she got Jessie thinking. It seemed her young cousin had totally forgotten about the tree house.

Looking for some privacy, Jess had climbed up to write an entry and lost track of time. When her mother called her for lunch she had quickly stashed the small book behind a crate in the old fortress intending to go back for it, but she must have forgotten. Alas, her brother James would live another day.

It was this which kept Sara wide eyed, her thoughts running in circles, with no rest in sight.

When the sounds of soft whimpering behind her broke the silence, she stiffened, her drawn breath held in the vise that had become her lungs.

"No…Don't...Please don't…Please don't leave me…please…"

Sara let out her breath and carefully turned her body to face Michael. His back was to her. She couldn't see his features, but the stiffness in his shoulders, the muscles in his arms tightening as he clutched the pillow along with his tortured pleas gave every indication he was in the throes of one hell of a nightmare.

A tentative hand reached out to shake him, to wake him, but paused at his next words, "Angela, you can't leave me…Don't you die on me…I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry...Please…It was my fault…It should have been me…"



Sara was frozen, her heart climbing quickly to her throat, making breath painful. Part of her wanted to hear his next words, but mostly she felt the intruder; like this was a private moment and she shouldn't be listening …She had never heard such pain in someone's voice.

Forcing her limbs to move, Sara reached the small distance between them and closed her hands over his arm. "Michael, wake up…Wake up, it's just a dream...Its okay." She was shaking him when he gasped and instantly pulled away from her touch.

"Don't…just don't," He moved to sit up, his back to her, his features still hidden.

The room was locked in quiet moon glow as she stared at his stiff back, at his arms as he clutched the mattress.

Sara wanted to reach out to him, but his initial reaction held her at bay. She was barely able to voice a soft, "Are you okay?"

He didn't answer for a beat, he just sat there. And then he was moving. "Yeah, I'm okay…I just…I need some air, that's all."

He moved to swipe a hand over his face as he turned, but he was not quick enough as the moon light hit his features.

It was then that Sara saw what she had only suspected; the tears he fought so hard to hide in shadow, finally brought to light.

XXXXX

Sara wasn't sure when Michael finally slipped back into bed with her, but when she opened her eyes he was there in front of her, less than a foot away. She took this opportunity to openly stare. He was so beautiful. She thought of the tears that had lined his face the night before, she thought of the dream. Such was a dream that it could cause so much pain…

Angela.

Hadn't he said, "Don't you die on me?" Yes, that was it. He had also said that it was his fault and he was sorry. What did he mean when he said it was his fault? Was Angela dead? And if so, why did Michael blame himself? The only thing Sara knew, and she was pretty certain of this now, Angela was _not_ a puggle.

Something also told her that Angela was no longer a part of Michael's life. Which made perfect sense really, given the circumstances, but what didn't make sense was why he had told Katie that Angela was his dog in the first place. This was a question Sara was afraid she might never know the answer to. She certainly couldn't ask Michael.

Her words to him the previous evening came back to her and she winced. How horrible she must have sounded when she asked him if there were any other pets she should know about.



But how could she have known?

Closing her eyes, Sara took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She stayed like this, her eyes staying closed as she took in deep even breaths, one, two, three, four… she was long passed ten before she opened her eyes to sleepy skies. "Hi…I mean good morning," she stammered.

How long had he been looking at her like that? Not long to be sure. He seemed to be blinking away the finale vestiges of sleep.

"Yeah, good morning," Michael scraped a hand over his face and flipped onto his back.

"I think I'll head to the shower unless you want to go first?" Sara offered, pretending that everything was normal, just like any other day.

"No, you go ahead. I think I'm going to try to go back to sleep."

Sara glanced at the clock. It was almost 10:00am. "Okay, but don't forget we're expected downstairs soon. I think the party starts at noon."

"Party…Oh, you mean the BBQ? Okay just give me an hour…better yet, wake me when you're finished in the bathroom." He closed his eyes and flipped over pulling the blanket up over his shoulder as he put his back to her.

"Sure, okay. I can do that." Sara stared at him for a beat and then made herself move. It took her only a few minutes to gather the things she would need and then she was heading into the bathroom to get ready for the BBQ.

XXX

The bikini, a black little number, was skimpier than Sara remembered. Why had she let Amy talk her into the suit? She should have just bought the one piece. If she had she wouldn't be suffering this anxiety.

Sara turned in front of the mirror, looking at what she could see of her behind. Okay, so at least she wasn't completely hanging out of the suit but still, it was small!

Maybe she could borrow one of her mother's one piece suits?

"Be brave Sara, and don't over think it." She scolded as she grabbed her wrap around and tied it around her waist. There, that was better. At least her butt was covered. Her eyes moved to the small triangles that covered her breasts and she hunched her shoulders, pressing her arms into them to pop them out. The result was almost obscene, but was it sexy? This was the most risqué suit she had ever worn and she couldn't help wondering what Michael would think of her in it. Her cheeks flared a little at the thought. Okay, note to self, do not press arms together.



Sara grabbed her lip gloss and applied a thin coat. She was as ready as she was going to be. Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door. It was time to wake Michael for his turn in the bathroom.

Her bare toes sank into the carpeting as she slowly walked the short distance to the sleeping shroud on the bed. "Michael? Are you awake? It's, ah, it's your turn for the shower." She was standing directly in front of him, but he had yet to open his eyes. "Michael?"

His hand came up to swipe his features and then he was squinting up at her.

XXX

Once again she was the first thing he saw upon awakening. Earlier, it had been the smooth skin of her face that drew his eyes but now…

The tiny black swimsuit in contrast to Sara's milky white skin made her look radiant. Something he could not miss, not even in his bleary eyed state.

"I'm awake. You don't have to wait. You can head downstairs if you want." He sat up, being careful to place the blanket loosely in his lap, lest Sara be confronted yet again with his pajama tent.

"Oh, ok, sure. I'll just be out by the pool then."

He watched as Sara walked to the door, waiting. When she was gone and his eyes were looking upon the hard wood of the closed door instead of her soft curves, "Nice suit," he flopped back onto the bed with a sigh, his back hitting the firm mattress in silence.

He scraped a hand over his face, the stubble on his cheeks rough against his palm as the dream that had robbed him of sleep suddenly came back to haunt him. It was the same of course, it was always the same. The nightmare of that night played out in vivid detail for an audience of one. The thing was he had not had the dream in months, so why last night? And what must Sara have thought? Of him waking her in the middle of the night like that? His thoughts were sufficient enough to kill all remnants of sleep and any arousal. But he still had no clear answer.

His head fell to the side, his eyes landing on the clock that sat on the nightstand. 10:55. He should get moving. A shower and a shave would help. It might not erase the fatigue in his eyes, but if he were to go downstairs as he was, "Not very professional, Scofield." Shoving the blankets aside, he slid out of bed. Minutes later he was standing under the blast of the hot shower.

XXX

Volleyball, how could she let herself be talked into playing a sport she was certain she wouldn't be any good at? Sara scolded herself. But then she really wasn't good at any sport unless you counted hiking. Why did it have to be so hard to say no to those blue eyes? A sigh left her as the 

ball was served and she managed to avoid play. So far she had managed to avoid making contact with the ball.

But it would be her serve soon, and then what?

"You're up Sara." Michael tossed her the ball. When she didn't move, "What's wrong?"

"I don't exactly know what I'm doing here, Michael."

His easy grin hit her in the pit of the stomach. "You'll be fine. Come on, I'll help you. Put you right foot in front of your left foot, Sara. Now I want you to hold the ball with both hands, okay?"

Sara nodded and took a deep breath. This was crazy and she knew it. She was going to make a complete fool of herself.

"You need to toss the ball in front of your right hand. Watch what I'm doing." Michael tossed a pretend ball into the air and then cocked his right arm back, his elbow moving up above his shoulder near his ear. "Don't punch the ball. You want to make contact with your whole hand. Got it?"

Did she have it? Sara nodded, but she didn't think she had anything, least of all any hope of actually making the ball fly over the net.

"Are we playing today?" Paul's friend Brad shot from his spot on the other side of the pool.

"Just give her a minute, man." Michael shot right back, his eyes never leaving Sara. "You can do this."

Nodding, "Okay, I'm ready. I can do this." Sara took in air and then blew it out. She did this a few times and then, feet in position, she tossed the ball and swung at it. To her amazement it flew true, straight up over the net. James jumped for it and spiked it back. Sara was not expecting the ball to be returned in her direction, but she jumped for it, her swing a bit wild, but she did make contact with the ball. It was only as she landed that she realized her bikini top was askew, the cool air on her wet skin tipping her off to the slippage.

Her spike hit the water with a splash as the point was scored for her team, and then her hands were flying up in an attempt to cover herself.

Sara felt her cheeks flare crimson as Michael moved in front of her in an attempt to block the other players' line of vision. "Holy gruns! This is better then all you can eat night at the club!" Brad's loud voice came from his pig like mouth.

Sara had never liked the man much and his rude comment pretty much sealed the deal.



But it was Katie's snide remark as she hopped into the pool in her perfect little bikini that hit Sara the hardest, "Hey Sara, Barbie called, she wants her suit back!"

The laughter that followed this comment brought tears to Sara's eyes but she blinked them back. She was turning to go, intending to hop out of the pool when Michael stopped her with a light touch on her arm, "It could happen to anyone," his voice was low, for her ears only.

"But it didn't happen to anyone Michael, it happened to me. I'm so stupid."

"Hey," his fingers were under her chin making her look at him, "You're not stupid, don't say that."

"The suit is too skimpy, and I knew it."

He wouldn't let her look away, his fingers anchoring her."You look amazing in the suit."

Unable to hold his gaze, her cheeks brightening further from his comment, Sara let her eyes tip down to his blurred knuckles, "Well I feel stupid…And Katie…"

"Don't let her do this to you, Sara. She can only do this if you let her."

Her eyes came back up level with his, "But I don't know how…"

"Make it a joke, joke it off like it didn't bother you."

"But how, I don't know how to do that, Michael."

"Yes, you do." He moved away, hopping out of the pool. Sara watched him head for the deck chairs where he grabbed the light blue t-shirt he had been wearing. And then he was back beside her. "Here, put this on, we have a game to finish."

Sara looked at him for a beat, her look bordering on incredulous. Could she do this? Continue like nothing had happened, like everyone in the pool hadn't just seen too much of what the good lord gave her?

Swallowing hard, Sara pulled the shirt over her head. "Thanks, I guess this means my game of peek-a-boo is officially over," she gave a sheepish look, "Or should I say, peek-a-boob?" Everyone laughed, Paul's laughter being the loudest, despite the cool look Katie shot him.

"Let's play some V-ball!" came from somewhere on her right and Sara let out her breath.

It seemed Michael was right. She felt his hand wrap around hers beneath the surface of the water and her silent thanks was a light squeeze of his fingers before letting go.

"Let's go kick some ass, what do you say?"



Sara nodded and then followed as Michael swam back into position behind the net.

XXX

"I just wanted to say thank you, Michael. You know for earlier. I was pretty embarrassed and…" Sara's eyes slipped to the grass where her pale fingers played nervously with the bright green blades.

After the game, which they had lost, no doubt thanks to her, Sara, just wanting to get away had made her way to the grassy area behind the old oak tree with her childhood hideout perched atop it's sturdy branches looming overhead. She hadn't realized Michael was quietly on her heels until she spread out her towel and sat down.

"You don't have to thank me. That joke was perfect by the way," his answer now was all she could hear despite the sounds of the BBQ, which was in full swing on the other side of the rose garden.

"Yeah, but I never would have thought to do that if it wasn't for you. I would have just run away…Like I always do…So thank you…" She still hadn't looked at him, her eyes as if held captive by the bright green grass mixed with clovers.

Whatever Michael was going to say in response to this, if indeed he was going to say anything was interrupted before it could form on his lips, when Jessie stuck her head out the lone window in the tree house and shouted down, "Peek-a-boo!" she giggled, her red hair hanging in streams down the sides of her smiling face. And then she was gone. A minute later she was plopping down beside them. "That was so awesome, Sara! And the look on Katie's face!"

Sara felt her lips turn up in a smile as Jessie beamed at her.

"You're cousin is awesome, Jess.."

Michael's words sent heat into Sara's cheeks, but she shrugged it off. "It was nothing, really…"

Sensing that she wished to change the subject Michael turned to Jessie. "I wonder how many shamrocks there are in that patch of clovers," his nod was aimed in the direction she was sitting.

Jessie's intelligent green eyes shot from Michael's teasing blue ones to the patch of greenery she was sitting in. "They are all shamrocks, silly."

Michael was shaking his head, "Nope. Shamrocks have at least eight leaves, and they are magic," his words were so matter of fact that Sara almost believed him, about the eight leaves anyways, but Jessie wasn't having any of it.



"I'm eleven you know, not five. A clover is a shamrock. And the world record for the most leaves on a _clover_ is eighteen. I bet you didn't know that."

Michael was grinning now. "You're right, I didn't know that. Hey, didn't I see you on

_Are you smarter than a fifth grader_ last week?"

This sent Jessie into peals of laughter. Soon all three of them were laughing and Sara felt the remnants of tension leave her body. This felt so good, just the three of them here like this.

She was wishing they could just stay there, wait the rest of the party out, when Jessie held a deformed clover over her head. "I found one! I found a magic shamrock! It has eight leaves too…Look!" Sara tilted her head to the green petals her cousin held over her head and saw the spliced together green clovers. "And...Wiki says if you find one and hold it over someone's head, someone has to kiss them and if they do, they will be with that person forever …Ahem…you're up stud!" Jessie was grinning from ear to ear, but Sara's pulse had started pounding so loudly in her ears partway through her cousin's matter of fact speech she barely heard the last few words.

Was Michael going to kiss her?

"Is that so? Michael was playing along. "Wiki is known to be wrong, you know? Besides I have always heard it was mistletoe. That if someone holds a sprig of mistletoe over a ladies head…"

"Just kiss her already!" Jessie demanded as she waved the sprig of clovers over Sara's auburn head.

"Okay, fine, fine, I'll kiss her." Michael was laughing.

Sara ran her tongue over her lips. They felt so dry all of a sudden. But what if they were too wet now? All of these thoughts flew from her head as Michael's fingers grabbed onto the too big blue t-shirt she was still wearing. And then he was tugging her closer, the laughter gone from his eyes. A beat later his slightly moist lips were lightly upon Sara's, taking her breath. Sara's hand had just come up to rest on his shoulder when he pulled away.

Before she could blink he was on his feet. "Hey, I bet the food is ready. I'm starved. What do you guys say?"

"I'm so hungry I could eat a unicorn!" Jessie piped up and tossed the magic shamrock into the patch of clovers. "Come on Sara!"

Still feeling the tingle from Michael's kiss, Sara let Jessie pull her to her feet and then bent to grab her towel before she could be tugged away.

Looking over her shoulder at the patch of green clovers that lay shining in the sun, Sara found herself hoping there really was something to this magic shamrock thing...




	24. Chapter 24

An expulsion of air left Michael's lips on the tail end of a quiet whimper as he came awake. The dream, much more vivid, more terrifyingly real than he could ever remember having, was still there, the images, a stain much like the blood on the rain slick pavement that night, refusing to be washed away even as the skies opened up once again to assault them, soaking skin, hair and streets as he tried to shelter Angela from the brutal downpour.

His body, now bathed in the light from the window, was coated in fine dream sweat reminiscent of that long ago moisture.

Scraping a hand over his shadowed features, Michael glanced to his left. That same light made Sara's porcelain skin glow; made auburn hair a dark curtain along her cheek. He hadn't awakened her this time. Good.

His eyes moved to the curve of her nose and onto the slightly parted lips. Sighing, Michael forced his eyes away and pushed the light blankets aside, his movements eliciting a tiny moan as he froze, and waiting. It was only moments, but seemed an eternity until Sara's breath evened out and she was back under.

What was she dreaming, if anything? Was she dreaming about magic clovers and…This thought once touched upon refused flight. He had been foolish to go along with Jessie, to play her game. He had known this the second his lips touched Sara's soft mouth, but if he hadn't played along, then what? What guy wouldn't jump at the opportunity to kiss his beautiful fiancée? It was better to play along, or so he'd thought at the time.

Guilt twisted in his gut now as he remembered the kiss, the feather light touch on his shoulder as Sara's hand sought him out, the sweet taste of her lips. He had enjoyed the kiss, yes; it would be difficult if not impossible to deny this. Not that he didn't, to some extent enjoy the many women he serviced. But this was different, wasn't it? It wasn't about sex. It was about what, intimacy…something long absent from his life?

Squeezing his eyes closed, Michael swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet hit the soft carpet silently and with a rustle of bed linen he was stepping into the shadows. The cool air felt good on his sweat moistened skin but it was short lived. Soon he was buttoning the jeans he had changed into earlier that evening.

He was almost to the door when she spoke from behind him.

"Michael?" her voice was low, made deeper from sleep.

"It's okay Sara, go back to sleep."

"Mm…okay."

He could hear the rustling of the blankets as she settled back into slumber and then he stepped from the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

XXXXX

He was still having the nightmares, Sara knew this. The last few nights she had awakened to Michael either leaving the room or worse, the sound of him quietly crying out from whatever tortured place his dreams had taken him.

She forced her eyes from where he stood now. He was looking out the window and she had to wonder what he was thinking. Was he dreading sleep as much as she craved it?

Fighting a yawn, Sara pulled back the blankets and slipped in. She supposed she could blame the evening's dance lesson that had left her with a warm ach in her thighs. But the two glasses of wine she'd consumed with dinner probably hadn't helped much either. Not

that she was drunk or anything. Not even tipsy really, just relaxed.

"Are you coming to bed, Michael?"

"Yeah," his absent response was followed by the curtain falling back into place and then he was turning to her, the dark shadows under his eyes apparent even in the muted lighting from the bedside lamps.

Fighting the urge to ask him about his dreams, Sara once again reminded herself that it really wasn't any of her business. This was a part of Michael's life she would probably never know about. Angela was his secret and she had the feeling this was something that would always haunt him.

He avoided her eyes as he slid in next to her and then in unison they both reached for the light switches dousing the room in darkness.

"Good night, Michael."

"Yeah, goodnight," he sounded so tired she had a moment to think, and then silent minute ticked past silent minute, deepening the night.

Despite her worried thoughts, Sara soon felt her heavy eyelids going closed.

Maybe it was the wine, but Sara would not be aware she was doing so as she slipped into his arms during the long night, nor would Michael be aware as he pulled her closer, successfully chasing away the ghosts from his dreams...

XXXXX

It took her soft lips against his skin, the tiny puffs of air from her nostrils on his chest to awaken Michael to the situation. At first he thought she too was awake, and his breath caught in his throat at the boldness of what he believed to be Sara's advances. But she was not entirely to blame for this. It was his arms around her, his nose buried in her hair, wasn't it? How could he have let this happen?

He had just opened his mouth to say something, anything, when she sighed and shifted in his arms. This was followed by the tiniest of snores. The word that popped into Michael's head at that moment was 'delicate'; if there was such a thing as a delicate snore, Sara had mastered it.

His breath rushed out in relief as he assessed the situation. Somehow the two of them had snuggled in sleep that was all. But purposeful or not, her closeness was affecting him, his body was reacting and there was nothing he could do about it. The scent of her, the feel of Sara's soft skin against his fingertips was overloading his senses, and he had to admit that the relief he was feeling was tainted by disappointment that her caress was accidental.

How easy it would be to lift her lips to his...To ease his fingers beneath her...

Michael's yearning and guilt was growing in equal measure with each passing beat as his heart began to gallop in his chest, as his arousal took shape and demanded his full attention…Much like the sunrise that was at this moment captivating the sky outside the double windows.

No, he couldn't do this.

Moving her gently, slowly, so as not to awaken her, Michael slipped from beneath the blankets and the greater warmth of Sara's arms, and padded the short distance to the bathroom.

It wasn't until the steamy water was cascading along his body, and maybe it was this that reminded him, the pouring water so much like hot rain, but the realization did come. For the first time in the past five nights he hadn't dreamt of that night…Of Angela. His rest had been blissful and sweet.

Pushing these thoughts and what they could mean aside, Michael grabbed the soap and began to lather, running long soapy fingers over heat reddened skin in an attempt to erase the scent that still lingered on his senses, to wash away the ache he wasn't supposed to be feeling, the sensation that his arms had never felt so empty as they did just then...

XXXXX

"Have you seen Michael this morning, Jess? Jessie?"

It took Sara repeating her cousin's name for Jessie to respond and then her face tipped up from the Hannah Montana book she was engrossed in, "Huh? Oh…Ah…No. Sorry Sara."

Sara watched as her cousin was consumed once again, the pull of the pages calling to Jessie of the same intensity and caliber, when earlier that morning Michael had walked passed, with instructions to tell Sara he was going for a walk. Not only had his instructions gone unheard, but Jessie had been completely oblivious to Michael's presence due to the predicament Hannah was presently in.

"Okay, thanks," Sara said softly as she closed the door behind her.

Sara, having awakened to not only an empty bed but an empty bedroom as well, had quickly showered and headed downstairs for some coffee and one of the homemade muffins she could smell the second her feet touched the hardwood of the upstairs hall. Blueberry was her favorite and the aroma, enticing her taste buds, had put hurry in her step. Stella certainly was a gem.

A muffin and a half later she still hadn't found Michael. In fact Sara hadn't seen anyone aside from Stella and now Jessie. Neither had a clue where Michael had gotten off to.

This wasn't all that odd, Sara supposed, that the house should be deserted, not really, considering the amount of work that still needed to be done if the wedding was to go off without a hitch five days from now. But where was Michael?

Sara remembered the dark circles beneath his eyes as she pushed open the door that led to the large deck by the pool. She could almost see him there in her mind's eye, sprawled sexily on a deck chair, sleeping; his t-shirt riding up to show the light sprinkling of hairs above his navel...

The fantasy was shot out of her head and her coppery eyes filled with disappointment however, as she surveyed the empty deck. Feeling alone and lonely, Sara plopped onto a deck chair and settled back.

Whatever was going on with everyone, be it wedding preparations or a simple luncheon, she had been excluded…Again. This fact had not slipped by Sara unnoticed, but then she should be used to it by now, shouldn't she?

Sighing softly she made up her mind to not spend the day feeling sorry for herself and hauled her weight up from the deck chair. A quick exchange of her sandals for some hikers later and she was heading off, figuring a long walk would do her some good and a longer hike even better.

Maybe she could burn off some of those blueberry muffins???

The doors closing behind the white coated figures only brought more questions to the forefront of Lincoln's mind. Should he tell Michael that Angela was coming down with something, or wait and ride it out? The doctors at the facility had just reassured him that it was probably nothing, that with no fever present there was very little risk that it was

anything more than a summer cold…But still. If it was Sammie he would want to know, wouldn't he? Lincoln knew the answer to this and he also knew his little brother well enough to know that Michael would want to be made aware of the situation, whatever the depth of risk.

Sighing reluctantly, Lincoln fished out his cell phone and was about to press the button that would send out the signal to a cell phone tower that would speed him thousands of miles and all too quickly to his brother. Lincoln's reluctance stemmed from the knowledge that once the news was delivered he would then have to talk a concerned Michael out of jumping on the next plane back to Chicago. And he didn't want to do that. Michael needed this. From the second he had seen Sara, Lincoln had known she was a second chance for his baby brother; she could be the light at the end of this self destructive tunnel for Michael, if only he would see it.

He was poised, finger above the send button when Nurse Ratchet, or the facility's equivalent, came swiftly around the corner, her scolding expression honed and at the ready.

"Sir, you can't use that in here, it's against the rules."

A sheepish smile lit ruggedly handsome features as Lincoln ducked his shorn head like a school boy. "Sorry, Ma'am, My bad." A flip of the wrist and he was shoving the phone deep into one of the pockets of his faded jeans.

Nurse Ratchet smiled; a crack in the ice that threatened to shatter her stone like countenance, if she wasn't careful. "Just be mindful of the rules, please. We adhere to them strongly here at Fox River. It is in the best interests of the patients, you know."

Sensible white shoes that made not a sound carried her off then, presumably to scold another hapless cell phone user into nearly wetting themselves. Lincoln however, was grateful for the reprieve her intervention had allowed him. Sure he would be out on the streets in the next few minute's tops, but maybe if he visited the gift shop first?

Dawdling slowly along the corridor, Linc made his way to the expensive flower/gift shop. When he was greeted with a swooshing of the opening of glass doors, he headed in. The air, almost ten degrees cooler, most likely to preserve the life of the overly priced floral arrangements, hit his tanned skin sending a ripple of goose flesh along his tattooed arms. Okay so he might as well make this stop legit, right? Right.

He perused the flowers thoughtfully before realizing he had no clue what kind of flowers, if any Sammie favored. But after nearly ten minute's deliberation, his eyes moving from purple blooms to bright red, Lincoln spotted the blue flowers that were sure to be a hit. Sammie's favorite color was blue, so how could he go wrong?

Knowing his girlfriend would most likely rather have a can or two of Reddi-whip with a big bow around them or maybe she'd rather the bow be tied around him instead, Lincoln dug a hand into his back pocket and fished out his wallet. A few minutes later he was headed out and the inevitable could no longer be avoided. It was time to call Michael and give him the news.

XXXXX

The long walk had done him some good, given Michael time to think. So he'd had a moment of weakness that morning, well almost had a moment of weakness. What was the big deal? It was just a sexual thing, right?

Time away from the situation and Sara had helped erase the traces of intimacy that the morning's closeness had provoked within Michael, allowing him to cast the feelings aside in a deeply veiled moment of denial. So what if he liked Sara? She was a sweet, likable girl, wasn't she? Which was exactly why he couldn't let his libido rule, give in to his urges. It would only hurt Sara in the end and he couldn't let that happen.

It was with this new resolve that Michael ignored the lingering of guilt that swam in his gut and stepped forward, his sneaker clad feet bringing him closer to the edge of the cliff he was standing upon. It had been somewhat of a surprise to stumble upon such rural beauty so close to the posh area surrounding the Tancredi home. But having grown up in the Chicago suburbs, Michael was not all that familiar with California; for all he knew, everyone out here could have a wilderness in their backyard.

His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his old jeans. It was a sudden burst of bird song that made Michael step even closer to the edge, made him see what had been right there all along, free for the eye's taking.

Blue eyes squinting, he cast his gaze to a scene that took his breath. The cliff he was standing upon looked down on a canopy of tall trees spun with spider webs. The branches were shimmering in the sunlight, the intricate silken threads casting an ethereal glow, making Michael wish he had a camera. His fingertips grazing the phone in his pocket brought a small smile to his face as he remembered it's features, one in particular, the feature that Michael had thought useless until this moment. He could take the picture with his cell phone. That is if he could figure out how to do it.

Fishing the phone out, Michael flipped it open.

Maybe it was the deep concentration he was exerting focusing on his task that allowed her to sneak up on him, startling him so. But when Sara spoke behind him, Michael jumped, making the phone slip in his grasp. He almost saved it, almost, the fumble reminiscent of the many football games he had played in his youth, as the ball; too slippery to catch hold of fell to the ground. But this was no mere game and the fumbled object was not a football.

Michael watched in silent horror as the cell phone fell, as the small device hit web spun trees in an almost graceful descent. And then it was disappearing from sight, with only

the imagining of a dull thud when it struck the hard ground down below.

Michael's hand, having already closed on empty air, squeezed into a tight fist, "Damn it!?"

"Michael?" Sara repeated his name, this time her tone questioning, but also sounding somewhat alarmed. She was still unaware of the damages done.

"What!" He turned to her, his tone much harsher than he had intended for it to be, his blue eyes flinty and he could only imagine what he must look like as Sara flinched away from him. His hand which was now at his side came open slowly and Michael silently made himself count to ten. When he reached the desired number, "That was my phone Sara." his voice this time was calmed almost defeated.

"Oh! I didn't mean to…I mean I startled you didn't I? And you…You dropped it…I'm so sorry Michael…I…I'm such a klutz…I'll buy you another one…I'll…"

"It's not the same, Sara." He wanted to kick himself as her hurt expression grew. But it was true. It was not just a phone he had lost, but then she couldn't know this. Sara had no way of knowing about the voice mail saved in his message archives.

She had no way of knowing that it was from Angela. He had saved it for three years, at first listening to it daily, just to hear her voice, so alive. It hadn't taken long before Michael memorized her words, could quote them verbatim. Later, he would go months without listening to it, and then, in a panic, he would realize he couldn't quite remember the sound of Angela's voice. It was then that he would listen to the voice mail, Angela's warm tones reminding him that she loved him even as she voiced those three magic words.

Michael turned away from hurt copper to avoid showing Sara the loss reflected in the deepening hues of his own eyes. He looked instead to the tops of the trees below. The phone was probably useless, busted into so many pieces, but still the SM card should be okay…

"We could try to find the phone and get the SM card…" her words echoing his thoughts perfectly made him look at her. "I know the way down, but it may take a while and it is kind of steep and rocky…I'm really sorry Michael." Sara added and began to wring her hands with worry that he might still be angry with her.

And he was, kind of he supposed, but more so with himself for being stupid enough to drop the damn thing in the first place. And all for a picture of web covered trees…

"Okay, let's do it." He noted the surprise in Sara's eyes at this statement and then she was moving.

"Okay then, follow me."

And with one last look at the glimmering trees below, Michael did just that.

(Chapter End Notes)

Sorry this took so long, but I should be updating again soon. Thanks for sticking with me guys and thanks for the reviews. They are all wonderful!

Julie


	25. Chapter 25

Michael had looked so angry, his blue eyes, pools of oceanic fury, his posture stiff as he stood staring at the tops of the trees.

After her initial shock at his anger, Sara had been hit with the brief concern that Michael would simply dive off the cliff after the phone. But that was silly. It was just a cell phone, wasn't it?

The phone must be important to him, that's all. Maybe it held all of his important client info? If so, the retrieval of the SM card should fix everything, well that and a new phone. And when this was over, Sara intended to buy Michael the very best cell phone money could buy. It was the least she could do, after all it was her klutziness that was to blame for all of this.

Fighting the urge to apologize yet again, Sara took a quick glance behind her to confirm that Michael was keeping up.

The conversation between the two of them had been pretty much nil so far, with only an instruction or two on Sara's part, to watch out for this branch or that rock.

It was the sound of Michael swearing softly behind her now, that made Sara slow up. She was used to moving briskly through the trees and had to remind herself that Michael, who was most likely not a seasoned hiker might need a slower, less aggressive pace.

"You okay?"

Michael was starting to sweat, the fine beads on his forehead glistening in the summer sun. "Yeah, I'm okay, I just slipped...I thought you said the way down was steep?"

"It will be when we actually start to head down. But first we have to get to where the cliff is lower, less steep. We couldn't climb here without the proper gear. Not unless we want to wind up in a heap at the bottom."

Michael just looked at her. After a beat, Sara turned back around, her hand shooting out with grace to push aside a low branch.

Fifteen minutes later they found the perfect place to start their descent...

XXXXX

This was the spot, one Sara had visited many times, and yet it never ceased to amaze her.

She had discovered it as a little girl. Her sister Katie, much too girlie to come so far into the trees, didn't even know it existed.

This was Sara's special place, always had been. The place she came to cry when her prom date told her on the day of the prom that he wouldn't be taking her, that he was taking Jenna Wilkins instead…

The place she always came to when Katie, ever the star, made her feel like so much dirt beneath her hovering feet…

This was the spot that made it all seem better, or at least more tolerable...

This was Sara's special place, and she was ready to share it with Michael…Maybe it would help him with whatever it was that he faced each night when he closed his eyes for sleep?

Maybe...

XXXXX

When he came through the clearing Sara was stooped in front of him, her lean body bent low as she tightened the laces on her hikers. It hadn't taken Michael long at all to notice the ease and grace of her movements, as she led him through the trees. But how could Sara be so graceful at something like this, hiking, when every other activity, where she was concerned anyways, seemed like an accident waiting to happen?

It was certainly puzzling.

Shaking his head, Michael bent to tighten his own laces. When he was standing again he saw that Sara was now standing near the cliff's edge, staring out but not down. He joined her, his mouth opening to suggest they not waste precious daylight when the beauty before him stopped all thought.

The area below was lit with movement. Colors kissed in sunlight, blues, purples and bright oranges mingling together as the butterflies danced. And it was as if they were dancing, their beauty of movement elegant and graceful as the wind carried them along an invisible trail set to an inaudible song, one only they could discern.

"There's so many of them," the awe in his own voice was not lost on Michael and when Sara turned to look at him, he forced his eyes away from the butterflies to meet her stare. "This place is…It's amazing…Did you know this was here?"

Sara nodded, as a shy smile touched her lips. "It's where I've always felt at home." She blushed then and broke eye contact, her eyes moving back to the Dance Russe below, but Michael's eyes never moved from Sara as he studied her. She was at home here; he could see it in her eyes, her stance, in the very air that surrounded her. This place was hers. Swallowing hard at the significance of this discovery, Michael bent to tighten his shoelaces again.

With this redundant task complete, "We should ah, we should probably head down now, don't you think?"

Turning, Sara nodded, the sunlight in her hair setting it ablaze as it blew back from her brow. "I'm ready whenever you are, Michael."

XXXXX

"He's still not picking up." Lincoln was cupping his cell phone in his large hands. He brought it thoughtfully up to his chin as he paced.

It wasn't like Michael to not answer his phone and it was near impossible that his brother wouldn't have responded to one of the many messages left for him by now. Linc had left a total of five messages so far that day. Maybe he is out and just forgot to take the phone along? Again, not like Mike, but shit happened, right?

The problem was the cell phone was the only way Linc had of contacting his little brother. He hadn't a clue what Sara's last name was, much less a phone number for her there in California.

"You're about to wear a hole in the carpet, you know?" Sammie said with a soft smile from her spot on the brown corduroy sofa. She was aware of the anxiety her man was feeling and was hoping to relieve some of it with a little bit of light teasing.

When this got no response and did little to erase the crease between his brows, "I really like my flowers, you know? They remind me of that field where you and I…"

This got the desired reaction and soon Lincoln was setting beside her on the sofa. "Oh, that one," he grinned, "I remember that field. I knew those flowers drew me to them for some reason," his mood was steadily lightening as he spoke, his fingers stroking along Sammie's inner forearm, from the bend of her elbow to her wrist, making her sigh.

Returning the favor as any good girlfriend would, Sam slowly ran a fingertip along the tattoo that graced his muscled upper arm. Soon her lips were tracing the pattern made by her lazy fingers and the sounds that filled the quiet room were deeper as he sighed.

"Maybe we should move this to the bedroom, what do you think?" his voice was husky with need.

"I was thinking the kitchen?" Sammie grinned as she nipped at his lower lip. "I'm kind of hungry."

His sexy grin drove straight through her and then he was slipping up from beneath her and scooping her into his arms.

The living room was filled with giggles as he carried her through to the kitchen.

Soon the sound of a Reddi-whip top being popped off could be heard, followed by another burst of giggles.

XXXXX

The climb down the side of the cliff had left Sara's palms sore, but she hadn't let that stop her. She was on a mission. This was her fault and she had been determined to find the cell phone and make it right. Usually she would bring along gloves for climbing but the impromptu trip this day hadn't allowed for such luxuries.

I

t was despite and perhaps because of this determination, that the search beneath the trees had been wide and thorough, but hours later there was still no sign of Michael's cell phone. And though she hated to be the one to voice it, Sara was beginning to think the time had come to give up and admit defeat. The cell phone was gone, lost.

She was about to do just that when Michael, who of course hadn't spoken much, just followed her lead, his long legs taking him along, his head lowered as he canvassed the needle strewn ground beneath the trees, spoke up. "Sara?"

The quiet, which had grown so intense between the two, shattered and Sara jumped in her skin.

"Did you find it?" her words, a feeble attempt to cover the reaction startled from her in the dense forest, was for her benefit only as it turned out, Michael wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were trained instead on a slice of darkening sky that peeked through a thin patch of tree branches above them.

When had the sky grown so threatening? Sure they had been at their search for a while but the day had been sunny and bright when their feet first touched solid ground, hadn't it?

The wind as if in answer, gusted against the backs of Sara's thighs and the smell of ozone hit her olfactory senses. It would be raining soon. The trees stirred angrily around them as if agreeing with this analysis and Sara felt or imagined the first drop of rain as it fell through the trees.

But imagined or not, it did get her moving.

"Come on." her voice carried easily as the wind died down. "We need to find a place to wait out the storm."

Without waiting for an answer, Sara turned and started to head back. They needed to get out from beneath the trees. If the clouds only brought the promised rain the trees would be a great shelter, but Sara had a feeling there was a storm brewing in the churning sky above them and that meant lightning.

They had made it to where the trees were starting to noticeably thin when the sky opened up. The rain fell hard and fast then in huge, fat drops that penetrated the summer cotton they both wore as it pelted down at the earth. It took only moments before their t-shirts

were glued to their bodies and Sara's auburn hair was plastered to her head.

Pushing aside the dripping strands, she sped up her pace. Michael had managed to keep up thus far, and Sara was hoping this would continue to be the case as the first crackle of lightning parted the sky.

The loud boom of thunder that followed close behind made her jump, despite the fact she had been expecting it.

The storm was worsening...

XXXXX

'The cave', one Sara had discovered years ago, wasn't far, but they were soaked to the skin by the time they reached it. Soon the sounds of the storm were muffled and the louder noises of their labored breathing was echoing off the rock walls of what was really just a deep hole in the side of the cliff's wall.

"We should be okay here. We just have to wait out the storm." Sara knew the anxiety was still present in the tone of her voice, but if Michael noticed he chose to ignore it as he scraped a hand over his wet face and plopped down on one of the large rocks inside the 'cave'.

Sara knew what he must be thinking, that his cell phone was not only lost, but most likely water logged, and the SM card probably ruined as well.

This was her fault, all of it. And now they would be stuck here in this cramped space for God knows how long waiting for the storm to blow over.

Sighing deeply, Sara let her defeated form sink onto the rock next to Michael's. "I'm sorry, Michael. This is all my fault. If I hadn't startled you, you never would have dropped your phone and we wouldn't have had to look for it and we wouldn't be in this mess." A shiver passed through her body, making her last words shake on her lips and Sara pulled her arms close to her chest in an attempt to gain some warmth.

"It's okay Sara. I mean it wasn't your fault. I'm the one that dropped the phone, remember? And this, this is fine; I mean I've always wanted to hang out inside a cave. It brings back my childhood fantasies." he quirked an eyebrow as he spoke, "I used to pretend I was Batman, you know?" the warmth of his smile as he tried to play down her role in their current predicament almost took away the chill that was seeping into Sara's bones, almost.

The 'cave' while mostly dry, was cooler than the forest despite the drop in temperature that had accompanied the storm. The shorts and simple t-shirt Sara had dressed in that morning had seemed like the right choice then, but now? What she wouldn't give for a pair of warm, cozy sweats!

"Batman, huh?" Sara smiled as she attempted an answer through her now chattering teeth, "I've always been more of a Spiderman girl myself."

Michael, if he even noticed, ignored this, along with the large goose bumps now traveling along her bare arms. It was as if to acknowledge them, he would then have to offer more than a warming smile to ease her discomfort.

"Yeah, well after watching you scale the side of that cliff today, I can see where you and Spidey might have a mutual admiration society thing going." He hopped up then, and moved to the opening of the 'cave'. "It looks like the rain is easing up a bit." He said this without turning, keeping his back to her, much to Sara's relief.

Her cheeks had flared heat at his words, but she was still freezing to death despite their now rosy appearance.

Turning now, hands deep in pockets, the perfect picture of casual, "We could build a small fire, I mean if you're cold?"

Duh, if she was cold? Nodding eagerly, Sara stood up, a clump of the auburn mess that was her hair conveniently falling from behind an ear to cover her face as she ducked her head. "I'll go gather some branches and twigs."

"No, you stay here where it's dry," Michael insisted, already turning back to the open mouth of the cave, "I think I can handle it. And then, unless you have some matches on you of course, I'll show you how to start a fire caveman style."

"I bet all you'll have to do is look at the wood," Sara said softly as the hottest caveman in the land exited the bat cave.

XXXXX

As the small twigs began to smoke and smolder Michael sped his actions, leaning low to blow a light puff of air beneath the pile of dry, well mostly dry pile of debris until it caught, the fire blooming small but welcoming in their dreary, dank shelter.

He could hear Sara's awed little gasp and looked over to see her clapping her hands together for him like she was a small child and this was a magic trick he had just preformed for her. Still he couldn't help but grin, the smile turning his lips upward in the warm glow of the scant fire light while it seemed to lend a spark of its light to his eyes.

"Hand me a small piece of wood," he commanded of his 'audience' and she swiftly did as he asked.

Already she didn't look as cold as before, and Michael told himself that he must be crazy, the fire couldn't have warmed her this quickly, it was barely an ember. But Sara did seem to have a certain glow about her that hinted at warmth, belied the cold. And Michael had to admit the tinge of blue staining her lips was not nearly as noticeable as upon his return to the cave.

Shaking his head in further denial, he fed the small piece of wood to the flames, being overly cautious not to smother them out. Soon the fire light was dancing along the cold stone walls warming them, or at least giving off an essence of warmth, making the cave homier.

XXXXX

Some time had passed and still Sara had her hands held out, wiggling the tips of her fingers, presumably to speed the warmth. Her clothes were almost completely dry too and this was a good thing, at least he could look at her now.

Or so he had thought. He was forced to look away as his thoughts took the turn he had sought to avoid earlier when Sara's t-shirt was glued to her skin, the outline of her bra beneath the thin, wet cotton easily tempting his eyes. Avoidance of looking anywhere below the neck was the only way he could feign normalcy, as he pretended not to notice her discomfort from the cold, that the natural thing to do in this situation would be for him to offer her the warmth of his arms.

Natural only if we had an audience, he reminded himself now, stonily, his jaw set tight.

This was not a date, it was a job.

But it was Sara's apology, her mention of the lost phone that had sent guilt spiraling through Michael, guilt that she could think that this, that any of this was her fault. Putting warmth into a smile he had practiced to perfection, he had spoken the truth then, telling Sara it was him, making light of it to be sure, backing it up with a joke about Batman of all things, but still it was the truth. It wasn't her fault, none of this was. His guilt had manifested tenfold then as he thought about Angela. He had pushed aside his thoughts, tossing out yet another joke as he hopped up and away from her eyes; were she to look at him, he didn't want to leave it to chance that Sara should notice the change in his expression. He had stared out at the slackening rain until he felt confident he could appear casual when suggesting they make a fire.

With the light of said fire blinding between them now, he let himself go to a place when in company, he often avoided. He could picture her now in her stasis of frozen beauty, Angela, her golden hair spread out upon starched, white hospital linen, unchanging as all around her sped him fast forward through the seasons to this point in time. And everything that had led him here was his fault… his fault that he was so alone.

"And I deserve to be alone."

"Did you say something?" Sara, her coppery eyes dancing amber in the firelight questioned as she glanced around at him.

He blinked, his eyes coming back into focus, "I was ah, I said I think we should get home…We should get going, I mean. The rain has stopped and it's been a while since the last round of thunder."

He wasn't sure of this last, his thoughts so captured by the past he had grown inattentive to the noises, the elements of the storm around them. He watched as Sara nodded and climbed to her feet, and he figured he must not be too far off. Taking her actions to mean that she agreed with his assessment of the storm, he quickly moved to stand, and kicked dirt over the fire he had fought so hard to keep alight.

But the fire had served its purpose, he supposed. It had warmed Sara and it had warmed his skin, even if it had done little to quell the chill that lived deep within where he still lay bleeding and broken.

XXXXX

The rock wall was slippery from the recent rainfall, but Michael was moving with a determination to keep up. Sara was a few feet above him, moving sure footed along a path presumably only she could see when he suddenly felt himself slipping. He grabbed for the rock in front of him, heart pounding harder than the thunder that had rocked the earth, as his fingers latched on in a death grip, the rocks in front of him becoming his salvation, keeping him from sliding back down the cliff's craggy face.

"Shit!" the expletive left his lips making Sara look back at him, her steady progress coming to a halt.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, I just slipped a little, that's all." The words had barely left his lips when he heard Sara gasp and then she was sliding, the rock wall crumbling away in her grip.

Michael felt panic hit him square in the chest then, but he was frozen as she slid toward him. "Sara!" his hand, shot out at the last second seeking to grab her t-shirt and he could hear the thin cotton ripping when his fingers made contact and it was as if the sound track was set in slow motion. Everything was as he reacted, "Grab onto my hand!"

XXXXX

Michael's hand gripping her t-shirt was all that was keeping her from sliding the rest of the way down the cliff and Sara knew this, even in her panic. Her hands were raw as she clawed at the rock wall still trying to get a grip but it was useless. Her fingers weren't working, why wouldn't her fingers work?

"Grab onto my hand, Sara!" he repeated his instructions, the words finally seeping through the fog of panic in her head and the loud pounding in her ears as her heart sprinted in her chest.

Sara stopped her efforts at the wall and reached blindly above her to grab for Michael's hand. She grabbed on, somehow making her frozen fingers function, but the blood on her palms was slippery and she felt herself slipping from his grip. Michael's hand tightened down in refusal and she could faintly hear his labored breathing, the strain and effort he was putting into pulling her forcibly up the cliff wall, hauling her up next to him.

Blood was running along her cheek from a shallow scrape but she could barely feel the sting, the brief irrational thought that her sister was going to kill her for marring up her face before the wedding was stronger, as it sailed along the fog in her mind, along with so many of the things Sara wished she had or had not done with her life.

And then she was in Michael's arms, safe, her body pressed tightly between his and the rock hard sureness of the cliff, the pounding of his heart against her back along with that of her own making Sara's body quake or maybe she was just shaking? She didn't know, couldn't care. All that mattered was that Michael had saved her.

Sara became aware of her cheek pressed almost painfully against the cool rough rock wall at precisely the same instant she felt his lips in her hair. He was shaking now, his body still pressed tightly against her.

And as the danger ebbed away, the fog in Sara's head cleared and she could faintly hear his low words, words she was sure he had been mumbling all along, as he breathed them painfully into her tangled hair, "Don't…please don't…please don't …please…Sara…" So much like one of his dream sentences her mind insisted, and Sara felt her heart beat painfully against her ribs but this time for a very different reason.

"It's okay Michael, I'm okay, I'm here. You saved me." She was attempting to turn her head just enough to look at him when his body stiffened.

XXXXX

"We should get moving Sara," Michael's tone was detached now, making Sara wonder if she had imagined the painful desperation of his mumbled words just moments before. But no, she hadn't imagined them, nor the death grip with which he had held her pressed against him. She could still feel the warm contours of his body even as the humid air of the forest passed between them. He was pulling back both emotionally and physically.

A beat later, he was moving aside, attempting to find purchase on the rock wall in front of them. Michael needed to further distance himself, everything about his rigid posture, the avoidance of any eye contact told Sara this. It was this feeling that kept her from reaching out to him, well that and just the natural insecurity that was Sara Tancredi.

Without another word they began to climb, the forest seeming to grow especially quiet. It was as if the birds and the other creatures of the forest had witnessed what had just transpired and were holding their breath for more edge of your seat action.

If this was the case, then they would be sorely disappointed. The climb up was slow, due to still shaky limbs and slippery rock, but it was successful. Soon the two were seated on solid, if damp ground, a new kind of quiet enveloping them.

It was Michael who finally spoke breaking the uncomfortable stillness in the air. "You need to get those hands looked at."

Sara nodded, her words a direct contradiction to this tiny movement. "Their fine, just a few scrapes and scratches." Her eyes were directed straight ahead just like Michael's. Neither had chanced a look at the other while speaking.

It was with a continued silence then, that the two climbed to their feet and headed for the trail that would take them back the way they had come.

The forest as if sensing the drama was over, resumed life as normal, and the slight breeze that moved through the tress gave flight to the butterflies once again.

But this time neither Sara nor Michael made any effort to notice their silent dance of flight.

XXX

When they reached the gate to the Tancredi's large home it was to Sara's surprise, but really she knew she shouldn't be, that Michael told her to go on ahead.

The slight nod she could manage in response to his proposal went unnoticed as Michael turned without a glance in her direction, and headed away from the sprawling lawns.

Where was he going? Wasn't he as tired as she? Sara's legs felt as if she had just run a marathon and she was the seasoned hiker. Her silent questions going unanswered, Sara watched his lone figure growing smaller and smaller until he was out of sight.

But really she thought she knew the answer, Michael just wanted to be away from her.

Pushing away the ache this thought brought along with it, Sara turned with a sigh. She was only halfway up the drive when she spotted Katie's car. It was parked right where her sister always parked it. Suddenly the idea of explaining everything to her mother and Katie felt like too much, but Sara wasn't given the chance to run away.

"Sara, where have you been? Oh, my God, what did you do to yourself? Mom!" Sara tuned out Katie's overly dramatic reaction as best she could as her sister headed back into the house, but soon she was back with their mother in tow.

"Sara, what happened?" Without waiting for an answer, Jill continued, "Your face, your hands! And the wedding is in five days!" Finally managing to successfully tune the two out, Sara let them lead her silently up the drive, her mother calculating the damage and at the same time wondering aloud if Jean Paul, make-up guru to the California elite could work his magic.

Neither sister nor mother seemed to care anymore how Sara's face had gotten injured. They were too busy trying to figure out how to fix things; how to fix the damage Sara had once again inflicted, only this time it was upon the perfect wedding for the perfect girl.


	26. Chapter 26

*~When Atlas slipped I lost my grip, yet I didn't think it could turn into this, butI was told by two sweet crows, nobody feels what nobody knows…~*

Head lowered to ground as if searching for something lost, Michael hadn't looked back. In his need to get away, he was clueless to Sara's eyes on him. He was completely unaware of the hurt look balanced in her stare.

Where was he going? It didn't matter. He just needed to be alone, to think about what had happened on the cliff with Sara. She had almost fallen. If she had, it would have been his fault. He had almost let her slip right past him; it was only as if by some miracle, some act of a higher power that he had managed to grab hold of her t-shirt.

And once she was safe beneath him? The images had assaulted him then, images of the rain slick night replacing rain slick rock wall in flashes like lightning.

God how he hated the rain!

Bringing the palms of his hands up to rest against his closed eyelids, Michael cupped his long fingers against his forehead and pressed hard. The heels of his palms digging into tired flesh, made loud colors pop and flash beneath his lids in his efforts to fight the images that were even now, much too vivid, much too real to inwardly look upon.

He was wrong, he realized this now. He didn't want to think about this, and he didn't want to think about the panic that had filled his gut as he struggled to pull Sara to safety. He didn't want to remember the bitter taste of coppery dread and adrenaline laced fear that had filled his mouth as he fought to hold onto her slippery hand. Fear that he would lose his grip, dread that he would fail and be forced to watch her fall and lie bleeding, unmoving, while he clung, perched helpless above her, unable to stop or change things, forced to watch as yet another woman he had come to care about suffered because of him.

He could no longer deny that he did care what happened to Sara. Michael reminded himself, allowed himself this, his inner voice speaking up convincingly in its appeal that someone had to care. Sara was almost as alone as he was, maybe even more so. At least he had Lincoln.

Lincoln… Michael had just spoken with his brother the day before, but the sudden urge hit him like a ton of bricks, the need to speak to his brother, to hear Linc's reassuring voice telling him that Angela was okay…

He needed to find a phone.

Spell broken, a new mission to occupy his mind, Michael lowered his hands and let them fall down to his sides. He looked around, but nothing looked familiar. Michael wasn't sure how far he had walked, surely not so far the landmarks should look so alien to him? How far was he from the Tancredi estate?

"Need a ride?" The car idling beside him was quiet, its power purring smoothly beneath the candy apple hood. However, that wasn't why Michael had failed to notice the shiny, red BMW as it pulled up to the curb. The pretty blonde behind the wheel smiled at him when he turned to look her way.

"I need to find a phone." Not the answer the blonde was looking for obviously, but her smile faltered for only a beat and then as if by magic there was a cell phone flashing out, as she offered it to him. "Here, use mine."

"Thanks," his fingers closed over the phone and she resisted letting go of the slim device for a teasing, flirty instant, her fingers warm and firm against his. Her advances went completely unnoticed by Michael however, and soon he was making the phone call with her looking on, a pout growing in her usually vibrant amber eyes. The woman obviously was not used to being ignored by the opposite sex.

By the third ring, Michael knew Lincoln wasn't going to answer, but that didn't stop him from his pacing mantra, "Pick up Linc, come on man, pick up…"

Voice mail had just kicked in when Michael saw the small blue convertible pull up behind the blonde's red BMW. Paul's friend Brad Bellick sat behind the wheel, and Michael couldn't help but notice the grin on the man's cheesy bulldog face. The twinkle in Brad's eyes stated clearly that he knew what was going on. Fortunately for Michael, Brad Bellick didn't really have a clue what was going on.

"Hey Linc, its Michael," Michael spoke quickly. "I lost my phone…long story. I'll try back as soon as I can…"

Flipping the phone closed, Michael handed it back to the blonde. "Thank you…um…"

"Rosalie…Rosalie Hale," the thousand watt smile was back in place as she held out her manicured hand. Michael took it for a brief second and then dropped it. "Nice meeting you, Rosalie."

From the corner of his eye, Michael could see Brad's smile growing. "And again, thank you, but I really have to get going." As if to explain, "You see that guy back there? That's my friend Brad. I'm supposed to go with him to the ahh…to an appointment…Hemorrhoids…" at this last, Michael had held up his hand, the side of his pointer and index fingers resting just beside his mouth as if to soften the whispered excuse, as if in an effort to keep Brad from overhearing him.

A horrified look registered across Rosalie's perfect face and then it was gone; apparently, nothing was strong enough to penetrate the Botox grip she had paid big money for in Beverly Hills.

And then she was nodding goodbye and pulling away from the curb as if she couldn't get away fast enough. The strip of rubber she left in her wake could testify to this.

"Hey Brad," Michael said as he turned away from the speeding Beemer. His hands were in his pockets, the picture of casual, but he was feeling anything but. Still he forced a smile, as he got closer to the blue convertible.

"Hey…Michael, right?" Brad was eying him quizzically, "What'd you say to the hot skirt in the Beemer? She sure as hell got outta Dodge quick!"

"I told her you were my boyfriend and you have a hot temper." At Brad's horrified but disgusted look, "Brad, I'm joking…I just thanked her for the use of her cell phone and sent her on her way."

Before Brad could get his bearings back and ask the obvious, why Michael was so far from home and why he would have the need to borrow a cell phone from a hot blonde, Michael headed around to the passenger side of the car and pulled open the door. "Do you mind if I catch a ride with you? You're headed to the Tancredi's, right?"

"Actually, no. I was on my way to check out some of the local talent. But you're welcome to tag along." Brad threw the car in gear. Five seconds later, he was shooting out from the curb at a dangerous speed in his efforts to show off.

Once they were on the road, he turned to Michael, cheesy grin back in place, "I'm throwing a bachelor party for Paul. Hot babes, booze, the works…I got most of it covered. All we need now is a few honey's who know how to work a pole and I'm thinking I know the perfect place…you game?"

Michael was about to say no and then thought better of it. If he bowed out, he would most likely spend the evening trying to avoid Sara. Maybe some mindless task was just what he needed right now. And despite his distasteful manners, Brad should be easy to be around, what with his one-track mind and low intellect.

"Yeah, sure why not, sounds like a plan."

"Sweet. Paul doesn't know about the party yet. See the plan is to lure him away …"

Michael tuned out Brad's planning, his eyes moving to the side and the quickly passing scenery, as the man's voice faded into the sound of the whipping wind that moved through the convertible.

It wasn't long before they were pulling up to a classy, as far as strip joints went, establishment. But the sign stating it was a gentleman's club did little to convince Michael that it was anything but a strip club when a hot brunette in a pink tracksuit strode out the door and hopped into her car.

"Damn shame that one got away. I wouldn't mind a lap full of that!" Brad said, nudging Michael's arm conspiringly.

"Yeah, she was…ah, nice." Michael muttered, when in truth he had barely looked at the woman.

"Nice? I bet that babe don't know the meaning of the word nice!" Brad bellowed as he threw his door open. "Come on…let's get this party started!"

With a sigh Michael opened the car door, pushed it shut behind him, and followed Brad across the hot asphalt and into the dimly lit Gentleman's club.

Xxx

After much fussing and grumbling over the scratches on Sara's face and hands and how badly the wedding pictures would suffer if they couldn't get Jean Paul the Bev. Hills make-up guru to fix it, Jill and Katie had pretty much ignored Sara and moved on to plans and more plans for Katie's wedding.

It was only at dinner that anyone seemed to notice that Michael was missing. After stumbling over her tongue, Sara had made the excuse that she and Michael had had a little argument and he had decided to take a walk and cool down a bit.

It was Katie, of course, who, after a quick glance at her watch, noted that hours had passed since Sara had returned and still there was no sign of Michael. Sara could hear her sister's smug tone even now, "That must have been one hell of an argument, Sara. I sure hope you didn't chase another one away."

But if he did run away, could she honestly blame him?

This thought hit Sara squarely upon awakening; the bright sun light through the window panes the culprit, having stolen the black abyss she had, in her exhausted state, fallen into, beneath the lonely sheets, the night before.

Sara didn't have to open her eyes now to know that she was still alone beneath the sheets. He wasn't there, if he was she would have felt his presence, wouldn't she?

Opening her eyes, Sara confirmed her suspicions. That despite the warmth the day promised, the spot beside her lay cold and empty, unruffled. Michael had stayed out all night…was maybe even gone for good…But Michael wouldn't do that, would he? He knew how much this meant to her

.

Still he had left once before…Back in Chicago.

As she studied the empty mattress beside her, Sara bit back her disappointment and the growing hurt that started somewhere in her tight chest, only to travel quickly south to the pit of her stomach. It was like she had lost a part of herself. But how could you lose what was never yours to begin with, she reasoned, in an effort to banish the tears that welled and threatened to fall from her hurt filled eyes.

She was being stupid. She was just a job to Michael…the job from hell, and he probably was headed as far away from here as he could possibly get, at the very least back to Chicago. The tears fell, finally, winning their right to course down her cheeks, and it was as if the shiny streams were attempting to wash the scratches from her saddened features as a booby prize.

Sara swiped at her eyes ineffectively.

If he was gone, how was she going to explain it to her family? Yesterday had been bad enough. But Michael's absence from the breakfast table this morning would only confirm it. Katie would be sure that something was amiss, that there was certainly more than a little argument to be blamed for his absence.

Maybe she deserved this for lying to everyone in the first place? Maybe it was karma? Sara certainly couldn't blame Michael for any of this. This mess was of her own making. He had probably stuck it out longer than anyone else would have. Most men would have taken off long ago.

But most men weren't made of the intricacies that was Michael Scofield….There was so much about Michael that boggled Sara's mind but at the same time, touched her heart.

This line of thinking led Sara to the lost cell phone, and the hike down the rock wall in the hopes of retrieving it or whatever was salvageable. Her near fall and Michael's reaction came next…She could still feel his shaky limbs pressing her close on the rock wall, could hear the desperate words he had mumbled into her hair, while holding her safely beneath him…

"He left before, but he came back…"

Hoping with all of her might, Sara threw back the sheets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. It took her only a few steps toward the bathroom door before her plan was complete. She knew exactly what she was going to do with her morning. If she was lucky she might even be able to avoid the breakfast table drama.

And if she was really lucky maybe Michael would be here when she got back.

Xxx

It was the brightness of the late afternoon sunlight what woke him, that or maybe the muffled noises coming from somewhere Michael couldn't quite ascertain. Not with his eyes squeezed shut and his face buried in the softness of a pillow. It took only seconds of trying to get his bearings for Michael to realize that he had no idea where he was.

It was a bed. That much was obvious, the smooth sheets and firm mattress beneath him, left little need for a visual confirmation. A bed, but where, better yet who's, and even better, was he alone under the rumpled sheets?

Turning his head slowly, Michael let the cool air of the central air conditioning system replace the warm cotton of the pillow covering. He winced from the shooting pain in his head as red bloomed brightly behind his closed eyelids. He was considering just reaching out a hand to blindly pat the space beside him, when he stopped his hand.

Maybe if he wasn't alone…maybe he could just slip away without waking her…whoever she might be. Michael searched his memory for anything, a face, a name…nothing. Maybe he was alone. He certainly had no memory of the events of the night before. He only knew that he had drunk too much, much too fast, with Brad Bellick buying.

Just do it, he told himself. It occurred to Michael suddenly that it could be Sara beside him and then he was opening his eyes, as if ripping off a band aide, a fast and presumably painless gesture. The bed beside him was empty. But for a few pillows, the other side of the bed looked unruffled, undisturbed.

With a relieved sigh…"Who's been sleeping in my bed…no one…" his voice, almost bear-like deep this early in the morning echoed off the walls, tearing through his head, sending Michael plopping back down, the pillow pulled back over his eyes.

He was still clueless to where he was. But the room was fairly well laid out. And the bed linen…In his line of work and with his clientele, Michael was certainly no stranger to fine Egyptian cotton. Obviously, someone had money.

He was still too groggy to be thinking clearly, when he heard a loud shout from the adjacent room…this was followed by giggles.

He thought he would know that voice anywhere as things finally started to fall into place. But how exactly had he ended up at Bradley Bellick's place? He still had no recollection past drinking and more drinking. But his tongue felt like old sandpaper and the taste in his mouth…

God, why? Why did he do this to himself? Michael's head pounded as music began to blare through the walls. But he knew why. Unfortunately, liquor consumed after an event did nothing to swipe the memory clean, no matter how badly you wished for it.

The events of the past day were there and they had little concern for Michael's current condition as they sped forth to claim what was rightfully theirs, top billing in the recent fuck-up's of The Michael Scofield story.

But here he was, at least he now knew where he was, he conceded, and he had stayed out all night. There was little doubt in Michael's mind that this would not have escaped Sara's family's attention. Of course they would have noticed. And what about Sara? She was sure to blame herself for this.

Sighing deeply Michael pulled the blankets up over his head. But he could still hear the loud heavy metal hair band as it vibrated the very foundations of the house.

At least the urgent need to talk to his brother had eased up a bit. Michael no longer felt compelled to call Lincoln for an Angela update. The call could wait until he could get a ride into town.

Once there, he would purchase a new cell phone and then he could safely make the call. He couldn't risk using one of the phones at the Tancredi house, not after Katie's demonstration of her snooping skillz. That had been a close one indeed. And complete genius on his part to claim that Angela was a puggle…Now all he had to do was get a ride into town…

But first he had to face the music and not the Motley Crue song that only seemed to be getting louder…Brad had one hell of a stereo system.

As the blonde singer sang about kick starting your heart, Michael pulled the blankets away, tossed the security of the warm pillow aside and forced his body to move, long legs swinging over the side, until his feet hit the cool carpeting. He pushed himself up to a standing, no, more like a slouching position then, and looked down at his boxer clad form. He couldn't remember undressing but he supposed he must have. The idea that Brad may have helped him made Michael's skin crawl…best to not even go there.

Looking around for his clothes, he was rewarded when he saw his t-shirt on the floor beside the leg of the bed. Soon he was dressed and despite the throbbing in his head, which oddly seemed to follow the beat from the music in the adjacent room, Michael felt more centered. Coffee was what he needed…And maybe some aspirin…

Seconds later, the door knob was cold in his hand. And with a quick twist, the well oiled hinges allowed the door to silently open. With a look in both directions, Michael walked into the hall and made his way in the direction that would, if he was lucky, lead to a bathroom and if he were really lucky maybe even the kitchen.

Xxx

The slim device fit snugly in Sara's hand, the glossy, black exterior showing the distorted image of her own features when she held it up to her face. This was not the same model cell phone Michael had lost. And maybe it wasn't as nice... It was just a prepaid, pay as you go model but it was higher end.

At any rate, the phone would just have to do until Michael could get a permanent replacement for his old phone...Should he decide to actually come back, that is, and so far Sara hadn't been able to fully convince herself that Michael would be back...

Still, despite any and all of her doubts she had given it her best...

Dodging the dining room altogether to avoid any questions, Sara had left that morning, in the hopes of actually finding Michael's lost cell phone. But after spending pretty much the whole morning searching beneath the canopy of trees, she had given up. All she had to show for her efforts was a skinned knee from the climb down to ground level and the gentle burning ache in her limbs of a good workout from climbing back up.

Fortunately her bridesmaid dress was floor length or she would be catching hell once again, for ruining her sister's wedding pictures.

Missing what would be considered a real breakfast, having grabbed only a protein bar, a bottle of water and an apple from the kitchen before heading out, combined with the physical activity involved with scaling the cliff side, not to mention her trip into town to purchase the phone for Michael, Sara, upon her return, had found herself ravenous.

Her growling stomach had led her straight to the kitchen.

She was just shoving the remains of a turkey sandwich into her mouth when she heard voices coming from the hall outside the kitchen.

Wiping her hands on her shorts, she quickly chewed and swallowed, washing the bite down with a sip of diet cola. She sat stock-still then, as the sound of banter and easy laughter grew louder.

Her heart, which was already pounding loudly in her ears, kicked up a notch when she heard Michael's voice. He was back! Somehow this revelation unfroze her awkward limbs and Sara was able to shove the shiny new phone into her pocket before the group entered the kitchen.

"There she is. Sara, we've been looking for you all morning." Her mother, sounding exasperated but not in the least worried about her younger daughter's absence, was the first to speak up.

"I ah…I went for a hike. Sorry if I worried anyone." Her eyes shot to Michael, taking notice of his surprised expression at her explanation for where she had been all morning.

"Well, you shouldn't left without telling anyone where you were going. That's not a very nice thing to do to someone." Michael's eyes were locked with intensity on hers and Sara was thinking this was probably the closest thing to an apology for his leaving and staying out all night she was going to get, at least in front of her parents, when he leaned and cupped her face gently in his hands.

The next she knew the light touch of his lips was meeting her forehead. And then it was over, and he was backing away. Just for show, her mind screamed while her heart beat ecstatically in her chest, the one word mantra, YES! YES! YES!

Sara had no clue what was said next, only that it resulted in her parents exiting the kitchen, thus leaving her alone with Michael. NO! NO! NO!

Sara was all nerves all of a sudden as she wiped her slippery palms on her shorts. Before she could chicken out, she quickly pulled out the cell phone and held it out to Michael. "Here…I ah…I bought this for you. In town. It's prepaid and it should be okay until you can replace the one you lost. And if you need more minutes, I can always add them on, it's no problem. It's supposed to be one of the best prepaid models on the market. The guy I bought it from said it was top rated in some hi-tech magazine… so it should be good." Sara knew she was rambling but couldn't seem to stop herself.

She was about to add that the phone had unlimited texts when Michael spoke up, "Sara, you didn't have to…I wish you wouldn't have…" He paused for a beat before continuing and maybe it was the look on her face as if she had yet again done something wrong, "Thank you, Sara. It's really, it's great."

"Your welcome Michael…It's the least I could do…" Sara let her chin slide toward the floor, her hair falling to cover her face, "I mean, I know it doesn't replace what was on your old phone…" she trailed off. At his silence, Sara chanced a look up at him through the auburn veil of her hair.

The same surprised expression had fallen over his features. And then as if realizing he was being observed, it was gone, as if it had never existed and he was smiling again. "It's okay. And this really does look like a great phone." He shoved it into his pocket and turned at a noise that sounded just behind him.

A beat later Jessie was joining them in the kitchen and the conversation changed, much to Sara's relief, to how unfair it was that the eleven year old couldn't sell her twin brother on Ebay.

Xxx

After being talked into an impromptu game of touch football with James, Susan could be quit persistent in her efforts to as she put it, "Get the child off the DS!" Michael had taken a quick shower. Then it was off to the dining room for what seemed like the longest dinner one should ever have to endure.

And what with the twins' constant bickering and the endless talk about Katie and Paul's upcoming nuptials, Michael was only too happy to call it a night or to at least embrace the pretense of turning in for the night when the moment to escape finally arrived.

Sara, who had already agreed to watch The Hanna Montana movie with an overly excited Jessie, barely reacted when Michael announced unceremoniously, as he pushed in his chair, that he was beat and thinking of turning in early.

He had held his breath waiting for one or the both of them to invite him to join them for the movie but when neither of them said a word, he had thanked his lucky stars, said his goodnights, and headed off to bed.

Until this moment, Michael hadn't really let himself think too much about the phone resting in his jeans pocket. When Sara had given it to him, his first instinct had been to say thank you, but no thank you…he couldn't accept it…that it was too much. He knew Sara had to be just about as broke as he himself was, what with having cleaned out her bank account to hire him. And besides, by accepting the cell phone wasn't he agreeing with her that the loss of his phone was her fault? Michael didn't want Sara thinking that he blamed her in any way. But then he had seen the total look of disappointment on her face. The look that said she had messed up yet again somehow, and that had decided it for him. He would accept her gift.

And now he was off to make good use of said gift.

His mind shifting gears entirely, Michael calculated; if you were to go by the average running time of most movies these days, then that should give him roughly an hour and a half tops. Which was plenty of time, he decided as he jogged up the stairs. He could easily give Linc a quick call in the time before the movie ended and Sara came up to bed. He wouldn't even let himself think about that now...being alone with Sara...He had decided earlier that he should just consider himself lucky that she hadn't said a word about where he had spent the previous night, and just let it go at that, unless she was to bring it up later. But he would just have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

He hit the landing at the top of the stairs and turned the corner that led to the bedroom he shared with Sara.

His mind was still on the task at hand as he entered the bedroom and flipped on the lights. It was only then that Michael remembered the time difference. It was two hours later in Chicago than it was there in California. Michael looked at his watch. That would make it just barely nine o'clock Linc's time, he told himself as he closed the bedroom door and made his way across the room to the bed.

Meaning, even if his brother had to work in the morning and he most probably did, it was early enough that he should still be up.

With nothing left to stand in the way of his making the call home, Michael settled back against the pillows, pulled the phone from his pocket and punched in his brother's cell phone number.

Michael shifted his weight a little as Linc's ring tone went into the second verse of the song…Funny he never would have guessed his brother to be a Justin Timberlake fan…but Sexy back? Maybe the ring tone was Sammie's idea, Michael thought, an amused little smile beginning to form on his lips as he listened to the lyrics.

~"Dirty babe, you see these shackles, baby I'm your slave. I'll let you whip me if I misbehave. It's just that no one makes me feel this way…"~

He was about to hang up, so sure was Michael, that he was about to be sent to his brother's voicemail, that when Lincoln himself answered the phone, he actually jumped a little as if startled.

"Hello?" Linc answered the call in the friendly yet guarded way one would respond to a call at nearly nine o'clock at night, from a number they didn't recognize.

"Hey, Bro, it's me." Michael leaned back and scraped a hand over his head, his fingers running through his short cropped hair. Somehow he felt instantly better, just having Linc on the other end of the line with him. But Lincoln's next words wiped away all of that good feeling, just as quickly as it had come, replacing it with a tightening in Michael's chest, as he instantly sat forward gripping the phone, riveted…

"Mike, I've been trying to reach you, man. You're message yesterday said you what, you lost your phone?"

Something was wrong; he could hear it in his brother's voice...

Fighting impatience, "Yeah, it's a long story…What's going on Linc, why were you trying so hard to reach me?"

"It's nothin' Michael…I mean, I just thought you should know, but there's nothing to worry about, the doc at the facility said it's just a cold."

His already tight grip on the phone tightened, "A cold? Angela's sick?" Michael swallowed hard but the dread seemed to stick in his throat, his next words moving slowly around his tongue as they fought to escape his lips, "What exactly did they say, Linc?"

Michael could hear his brother take a deep breath, "She's fine Michael…Just all the normal symptoms of a summer cold…No fever…She's okay, Bro." And then as if reading his little brother's thoughts, "You don't need to come back here, Mike…I got it covered, man."

Michael was silent for a moment, his mind racing. If he left now, he could be back before the wedding, maybe…Or he could do as Linc had suggested and just sit tight, let his brother handle it. But what if Angela's condition worsened…What if it worsened and he wasn't there for her?

"Mike?" Linc interrupted his thoughts.

"What?" Realizing his tone was a little harsh, Michael tried again. This time the word came out lower, calmer, "What?"

Linc's voice was just as calm but it was filled with reason, "If you leave now, you let Sara down. She's counting on you, man."

If there was one thing Lincoln could have said to make Michael agree to stay, it was this.

"You should have been a lawyer…" Michael mumbled.

"Huh?" Linc sounded puzzled.

"Never mind. You're right. I can't just leave. Not now, not with the wedding so close…But if Angela's…if her condition worsens…" Michael didn't have to finish his sentence.

"I'll go visit her first thing in the morning, Bro, I promise. I'll get a full report; give them your new cell phone number…And if there's any change in her condition…" This time it was Linc who didn't finish his sentence.

"Thank you Linc." Michael swallowed hard again and then cleared his throat. "Hey, tell Sammie I said hello, will you?"

"Yeah, sure thing, man...And Michael?"

"Yeah?"

Linc's voice grew husky with concern, "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Will do…You, you too, man." A few beats later Michael was flipping the phone closed and letting it fall from his hand on to the bed beside him.

(Lyrics: Sexy Back, by Justin Timberlake and Ten Ton Brick by Hurt)


	27. Chapter 27

The bed was empty when Sara woke. Michael's side held just the sheet and the thin summer blanket she must have kicked off at some point in her sleep. Not that the bed was empty when she went up to bed the previous night. No, Michael had been there, his quiet breathing a tell tale sign that he was asleep and if he were dreaming, all was well that night, no nightmares were detectable in his easy slumber.

Sara in all honestly, had been relieved to be able to avoid the time alone with Michael. And she wasn't even sure why. He had been nothing but kind to her since his return, what little time they had spent together. But not once had they been left alone.

Michael's game of touch football with James, his feigned tiredness so he could turn in early for bed…No his efforts hadn't slipped past her. Sara had seen through all of those things to what they really were, Michael's efforts to avoid being alone with her.

So she had figured she would be doing both of them a favor by staying away from the bedroom as long as possible. In fact, it was for this purpose that when the Hannah Montana movie she had watched with Jessie ended, Sara had stayed in the family room pretending to read until she found herself starting to nod off.

It was nearly two am when she had finally headed up to bed. Upon seeing that Michael was asleep, Sara had quietly but quickly dressed for bed and slipped beneath the blankets only to lie there in the dark.

But despite the late hour and her level of exhaustion, sleep had eluded her. Sara wasn't sure how long she had spent staring at the back of Michael's neck wishing that she could slip inside his head, if only for a moment, just to see what he was thinking. Or better yet, to see what he truly thought of her…

Now that he was back, her anxiety had eased, and things were back to normal, -well at least as far as her family was concerned- Sara hadn't been able to stop thinking about the day of the hike and what Michael's reaction to her near fall might have meant.

His reaction and the words he had spoken reminded her so much of his dream speak. Something about the desperation in his voice…Had the whole incident somehow reminded him of Angela? And if so, how…Better yet, why?

At some point Sara must have drifted off to sleep, but her mind traveled back easily enough to that very thread as she lay in bed, the late morning sunlight filtering in through the partially drawn drapes, lighting Michael's side of the mattress.

And as she had told herself the night before, Sara reminded herself again now, that this, that any part of Michael's past, was none of her business. Michael's private life was just that, his private life and she had no business sticking her nose where it didn't belong.

But this knowledge didn't stop her from wanting to know these things about Michael's past, from craving that closeness with him. The kind of closeness where you could share anything with one another…Sara had never had that with anyone…unless you counted Amy and that just wasn't the same thing.

But no, she wouldn't ask Michael a thing about his whereabouts the night he hadn't come home…Just as she would never ask him about Angela. Because the truth of the matter, and Sara had no choice but to acknowledge this in the bright of day, the answer that had all but eluded her in the still of the night, the truth was, Michael didn't want to share these things with her. Whatever feelings he may have for her, he wasn't 'into' her that way.

Whatever the rose had meant, and for all Sara knew it meant absolutely nothing…Michael hadn't left it for her as a romantic gesture…That is unless he had intended for her to tell everyone about the rose…

After all, everything really was just for show, wasn't it…The kiss on her forehead upon his return, the kiss under the clover…

Maybe that was why she was avoiding being alone with him now…Maybe because being alone with him when he was trying to avoid her, only made it all that much more clear that his attention was all just an act.

Maybe it was just time that she faced the facts, no one had ever truly wanted her…So why should Michael Scofield be any different?

xXX

He was on his tenth lap across the pool, hoping that if he pushed his body to exhaustion, his mind might follow suit, making him too tired to think about Angela.

Too tired to worry about her was maybe a better way of putting it, Michael conceded, but then there was reason to worry.

He had called Fox River first thing that morning, rising early despite the fact that it had taken him hours to actually fall asleep the night before.

What he had wanted to do when he hung up the phone, despite Linc's reassurances, was to jump on a plane and go to her…This need and the constant worry, when he actually tried to lay down and go to sleep, had kept Michael tossing and turning until finally around midnight he had fallen into a dead, and thankfully dreamless sleep.

And now despite the facility's echo of reassurances, that Angela was fine and that other than a bit of congestion this morning, for which she was now receiving antibiotics, her condition hadn't changed…."Certainly no reason for you to cut your vacation short, Mr. Scofield," Michael could still hear Fox River's, head physician, Dr. Baur's voice as he tried to sound soothing.

Congestion…Was there such a thing as 'a little congestion' when you were in a vegetative state and the leading cause of death, for someone in said condition just happened to be pneumonia, an illness that at first could very likely appear to be nothing more than a cold with a little congestion?

It was all Michael could do now to keep from jumping out of the pool, running to pack his suitcase and heading out to the airport. His pace in the water increased as he transferred this urge into the breast stroke he was using to make his way across the pool…was that eleven laps or twelve…didn't matter…He pushed himself harder, swam faster…

He never even noticed Sara watching him from the bedroom window…

Xxx

(Later)

Michael had just stepped into the garden, hoping to make a quick phone call before anyone was aware of his absence. Sara, Katie and their mother Jill were still in the den going over the details for the up and coming wedding rehearsal dinner when he had decided to make his getaway.

But the truth was it wasn't Sara that would miss him. In fact, if anything she seemed to be trying to get rid of him lately. At least the thought had entered Michael's mind, if briefly. In fact, the idea had occurred to him that very afternoon, when shortly after lunch, Sara had suggested he hang out with her younger cousin.

Half an hour later Michael had found himself at an arcade with James, battling hordes of hungry zombies in the latest House of the dead video game mega hit. It had been a welcome distraction, he had to admit. It had gotten his mind off Angela, well sort of and if not, it was a hell of a lot easier pretending with James that nothing was wrong than it had been with the rest of Sara's family

Even Jessie had asked him what was wrong that morning at breakfast. He had used a headache as the excuse for his lack of appetite and quiet distraction. But how many headaches could he claim before they would, A. begin to doubt his sincerity, or B. insist he go in for a cat scan?

And Sara had dodged him once again after dinner.

Normally not one to want to hang out with her sister and mother, especially when they were settling in for a long wedding planning session, Michael had been surprised to hear Sara ask to join them that evening.

So no, it wasn't Sara Michael had sought to escape when he headed out to the garden, but rather her future brother in law Paul.

The men in the house had been left to fend for themselves that evening.

And while Frank had settled into a comfortable chair to watch something on the documentary channel.

Michael had thought himself lucky to escape the special about the black bear and its hibernation habits. But less than fifeteen minutes later he was wishing he hadn't tried so hard when Paul invited him to hang out and have a beer.

Lawyer that he was, Paul hadn't left so much as a loophole to escape this opportunity for male bonding, so Michael had found himself locked into a two hour plus conversation with the man. A conversation that moved from sports to politics and finally the most yawn worthy of the trio, Michael's legal needs.

Short of actually admitting he might need legal counsel if Kelvin were to screw him over back in Chicago -how's that for blowing something up Paulie?- Michael couldn't help picturing Paul's head exploding upon his admission that he was a prostitute and his pimp was being investigated by the Chicago PD.

Wasn't it Paul, who, shortly upon meeting, had inquired if Michael, as a part of his job as a structural engineer, got to 'blow stuff up'?

Nope, that wouldn't do at all. So, mind blowing details left for another time…or more like never…Michael had been forced to listen as Paul went on about the need for a last will and testament… But listen was the key word. All he had to do was nod and say, "Uh, huh," every once in a while and Paul was none the wiser.

And that was what Michael had done for a good portion of the two hours he had spent sitting across from the man. Well, that and sipping at his beer…Pretty safe territory for a guy whose mind, body and spirit longed to be elsewhere.

It wasn't until the words pre-nuptial agreement entered the atmosphere of Michael's consciousness that he made the excuse of needing to use the bathroom.

So here he was, the fresh air of the garden washing over him, the night air feeling good against his skin as the light breeze moved through the leaves and ruffled his short hair.

Michael took a deep breath and stared up at the sky. Stars like diamonds lit the night, as if in audience to the moon; a moon that if not full, the naked eye, so enthralled, would insist it must be so.

And it was so quiet out here…Michael found himself sighing along with the wind…

It was just as he was about to open his eyes and reach into a pocket for his cell phone, that a hand was clamped over his mouth.

Michael went instantly into defense mode.

He had faced a few disgruntled spouses in his line of work, nothing like this, but thanks to his martial arts trainer, he knew how to handle himself in just about any situation.

The next thing he knew he was looking down into the surprised features of Bradly Bellick.

"What the fuck Mike?!" Brad spat out in a rough whisper. Michael had flipped him like a sack of potatoes.

Brad sat up, oblivious to the perfect view his spot on the ground afforded him. Flat on his back like that he would have had the best view of the moon and stars, had he cared to look up at them.

Now sitting, Brad was rubbing his lower back, still glaring at Michael who was fighting annoyance as he gazed down at his assailant.

"What the fuck? I should be the one asking you that question, Brad. Like for example: What the fuck are you doing sneaking up on someone like that? I could have easily hurt you."

"Could have? What the hell are you, a ninja in your spare time? Jesus!" after a beat, "A little help? Please?"

Michael grabbed onto his outstretched hand and soon Brad was back on his feet, his right hand moving instantly to massage his lower back.

"You don't remember the plan do you?" Brad accused, his eyes still glaring, as he stood staring at Michael.

"The plan?" all annoyance had fled to be replaced by puzzlement.

Sighing, Brad lowered his voice, "Tonight's the night." When Michael simply stood staring at him with no change to his expression…We're gonna grab Paulie tonight? Remember… The bachelor party?"

As clarity dawned, Michael's features cleared. "Right…tonight's the night. The Bachelor party's tonight."

"Uh, huh and we gotta grab the groom- to be and split. That is if we want any chance at some fun."

At Michael's new look of puzzlement, Brad sighed and this time he did look up at the sky, not to enjoy the view, but as an expression of his annoyance. After a beat or two, he lowered his gaze and looked squarely at Michael, studying him.

And then speaking quietly…conspiratorially, "Come on Mike, it's the only way. You know as well as I do, Katie ain't gonna want her boy having that much fun. So we steal him away for the night...have him back first thing in the morning so there's no chance he will be late for that rehearsal dinner shin-dig thing...What do you say?" Brad rubbed his hands together excitedly then, "You in"?

Michael sighed as 'the plan' became clearer. They were going to kidnap Paul and take him to a surprise bachelor party; a surprise for him, and apparently, a surprise for Katie as well by the sounds of it.

Shit… And he had agreed to this? After how many drinks? But then Michael remembered the car ride. Brad had started talking about a bachelor party for Paul and Michael had tuned him out. Shit! Katie would not only be surprised, but she was sure to be pissed as hell when she realized what happened.

Was he in? Well, he had to admit he hadn't thought about Angela and his own troubles once since Brad had slipped his fingers over his eyes…And pissing off Katie? That would just be a bonus…"Okay...Okay, let's do this. Let's break him out."

"Now you're talkin'! I knew I could count on you, Mike! Let's do it! Booo-yaaah, baby Boo-yaah!"

XxX

As she sat listening to her mother say that they should have gone with the lobster instead of the filet mignon for about the fifth time in what had to be only twenty minutes, Sara felt her mind begin to wander. And its chosen path led straight to Michael, of course.

So far, she thought she had been successful at giving him what he seemed to want; time away from her. But Sara wasn't patting herself on the back for this accomplishment. No, if anything these thoughts left her feeling even more empty and alone.

But soon this would be over, and when it was she would be back in Chicago….alone. When this was all over she would very likely never see Michael Scofield again. So she might as well get used to it.

Besides, it hurt too much lately anyways; being around him, knowing what she knew, that he just wished to avoid her…

These thoughts were interrupted by the squealing of tires and someone bellowing, "Boo-Yaah!" at the top of their lungs.

Sara was only slightly behind in following her mother and her sister Katie to the door. But once she had caught up, all there was to see was a strip of rubber on the driveway near the road and the acrid smell of burnt tires that lingered in the air.

Who ever it was…they were long gone…

XxX

The music was loud and Michael was drunk…maybe more drunk than he could remember ever having been, and that was saying something if you were to include his pre-Angela days.

Looking around at the ciaos of activity in the hotel room Brad had procured for the evening, Michael's blurry vision focused for a moment as they landed on Paul. The hottie on his lap was wearing little more than a smile…and well she was kind of wearing Paul Kellerman… Yeah, Katie would be pissed alright.

Not one to be unusually spiteful even while intoxicated, Michael grinned, tipped his drink to the two of them and then tilted his head back to gulp down the beer in his hand. But the sudden movement was maybe a little too much for Michael in his current state. When the lip of the bottle met his lips, he lost his balance and if not for the hands that came from behind him, he very likely would have landed on his ass.

"Hey, take it easy there babe; you don't want to hurt yourself, do you?" A pair of bright red lips were smiling at him.

Michael's eyes scanned over her. The woman attached to the bright red lips was one of the strippers Brad had hired for the party, Brandi wasn't it? "Yeah, like the drink," Michael remembered her response when one of Paul's friends from college had asked her earlier.

Even in his drunken state, Michael couldn't help but think that Brandi was looking at him like she would like to drink him down in one swallow.

She was tall, blonde, maybe twenty five, and she had a body to die for.

Michael thought maybe she could do it too…Drink him down, that is. "Gulp!"

"What?" Brandi leaned in closer to him, her lips grazing his neck as she sought out his ear.

Someone had chosen that moment to turn the already loud music a decibel or two higher.

"Never mind! I think you're too thirsty for me." Michael shouted in her direction. And then, not sure if she had heard him and really too drunk to even care, Michael staggered away from the blonde.

He was still talking, to no one and anyone as he walked across the room looking for a chair, "I gotta siddown."

At first he just spilt his beer and then he dropped the whole bottle. It rolled, until it came into contact with a table leg, but Michael took no notice of this. In fact he was still holding his hand out like the bottle was still in his grip, or maybe it was just for balance.

Unable to find a chair that wasn't occupied, he barely made it to a corner of the room, where he then slid down to a sitting position, and leaned his head back against the wall.

His last thought was that the room was spinning and damn-it, Brad should stop spinning the God damn room!

And then Michael was out for the count…

XxX

(The next morning)

It was well past noon when Michael slammed the car door shut, tapped it lightly and sent Brad Bellick on his way.

He was pretty sure Paul was wishing he had never been born, right about now. And if the look on Katie's face when they dropped her fiancé off was any indication of the amount of trouble the old boy was in then, "I pity the fool," Michael finished the thought aloud as he let himself in with the spare key he had been given to carry for the duration of his and Sara's stay.

He shut the door quietly, not because he didn't want to draw attention to himself, it was more to keep his already pounding skull from exploding. But he did like the idea of escaping upstairs without detection…At least until he started to feel a little more human.

The night before was still a jumble of drunken images in his brain and for some reason all Michael could remember was a blonde who wanted a big gulp…or maybe it was a slurpee?

God, his brain felt fried! And the more he tried to remember, the more it seemed to sizzle.

He just wanted a shower, another dose of caffeine and maybe another aspirin or two, and not particularly in that order.

Thinking he had actually made it through the house unnoticed, Michael slipped inside the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him.

It was only when he turned around, that he realized he was not alone in the room.

XxX

She told herself to not look up at him, to just keep reading the book in her hands, but when he turned around, Sara found her copper eyes trapped within his blue ones and she was unable to look away.

It was Michael who broke the staring contest first, his head dipping down as he began to unbutton his shirt.

"Hey," just the one small word, loud in the intense quiet, as he moved through the room, his fingers busy at their task.

His shirt was half way unbuttoned when Sara finally responded with a quiet, "Hey," of her own, and tipped her head back down to her book, letting her hair fell over her eyes in a convenient curtain to hide her troubled features.

She knew exactly where he had been the night before; they had conveniently left a note. Michael's idea most likely...Or maybe Paul's. Sara doubted Brad Bellick, most likely the deviant mastermind behind the whole thing, would think to be so considerate.

"I'm going to take a shower." This was said as he tossed his shirt onto the chair by the door.

"Okay. Um, the rehearsal dinner is tonight, so you should probably shave too." Why had she said that? She wasn't his mother. If he wanted to go scruffy she should let him.

"Yeah, okay." And then the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife, Michael slipped inside the bathroom and quietly shut the door, leaving Sara alone with her thoughts.

XxX

What are you looking at, asshole? This was Michael's silent question addressed to the scruffy looking man that greeted him in the bathroom mirror. It wasn't like he had done anything wrong. Men went to bachelor parties all the time, didn't they? And he was just playing the role Sara had paid him to play…How could she be upset with him for that?

If he had bowed out it would have looked bad…

But Michael knew the real reason, the selfish reason that had made him agree to go to the bachelor party in the first place....Angela...He had just wanted to forget for a moment, to forget that every moment he spent away from her, he was letting her down.

But it was Sara, he couldn't stop thinking about now, as he stared at his own reflection. He couldn't seem to get the memory of her hurt expression out of his head, her soft "Hey," in response to his greeting.

But why was she upset?

Was it possible that Sara blamed him for anything Paul might have gotten up to? Not that he remembered Paul getting up to anything, but if he did do something wrong, it wasn't Michael's fault. A grown man should be held accountable for his own actions…Shouldn't he?

His eyes held steady in the mirror, blood shot blue on blood shot blue.

Who was he trying to kid… Michael knew exactly how and why Sara could be upset with him; he just hadn't wanted to admit it to himself.

She was a woman, and some women got upset thinking about their guy going to a bachelor party.

But I'm not Sara's guy, Michael reminded himself. I'm just her paid escort.

His eyes held those of the all knowing stranger's in the mirror for a moment longer.

"Asshole," the word was said quietly and then he was stepping to the shower to crank on the taps.

Michael had a feeling it was going to take more than a shower, some aspirin, and another dose of caffeine, in any order you could serve it up, to make him feel human any time soon.

XxX

Sara's eyes never left the book she was holding, but she couldn't tell you any of the words that were written upon it.

As she sat waiting for her cue, the sound the shower would make as it came to life, she went over the last few moments in time. Each tick of the clock accounted for, from the moment he walked through the door to the moment the bathroom door had closed behind him.

And if Sara had thought she felt alone before Michael's arrival, she felt it a thousand fold now. But no matter what she was feeling, she knew one thing; she couldn't still be here, in this room when he came out of the bathroom….not unless she wanted him to see her cry.

The sound of the shower's spray set her into motion. Putting the book aside, Sara rose from her spot on the bed and made her way to the door.

Michael's shirt still lay where he had left it, on the chair. Unable to stop herself, she picked up the simple white dress shirt.

Why Sara had felt compelled to touch it, she wasn't sure. Maybe because it had been so long since she had last touched Michael himself. She certainly hadn't picked it up to inspect it like some jealous housewife.

But what ever the reason, Sara found herself holding the shirt, her body suddenly held straight as she went very still; as her vision blurred with the tears that had all this time stood threatening.

It was now, only now, that she would allow those tears to fall.

One moment they were as if frozen in place, and the next, they were washing away her sight, until Sara could no longer see the bright red lipstick smeared on Michael's shirt collar…


End file.
